Who Said Mermaids Can't Tango?

Another One Bites the Dust

2010-04-02T20:38:00.000-07:00

Mermaid Tango is going out to sea.

I create, read, study, spend family time, fold clothes, spend Double BB time, walk, rest, sip tea, spray paint, experiment with new recipes, visit art galleries, wash dishes, journal, play pounce & bounce with Zoe, go camping with the fellas, attend a Women's Circle meeting, work, sleep, sit on my patio roost & commune with the birds, and distill it all down to this amazing cocktail that I call 'my life.' Good stuff, not always easy or sanitary, but My Real Thing.

Priority.

Pretty early on after initiating this blog, while still interviewing artists, I realized that format was turning me into a shadow artist. But since letting go of that structure for Mermaid Tango, I haven't been able to figure out why, exactly, I have a blog, why I'm still maintaining this one. I've got no connection or commitment here, don't feel any mojo about posting, and I feel it shows.

Most particularly, 98.92% of everything I'm doing creativity-wise is, in both process and result, a journey I prefer to explore privately -- which leaves me with superficial leftovers for sharing and really nothing of import to say. My other two blogs contained my soul and enthusiasm, my discoveries and exuberance. The real thing to me, then, and I couldn't wait to post. Now, blogging feels obligatory, and (worse yet) boring -- which leaves me saying the proverbial, 'Oh, HELL no!'

I'm going to quit while we're all ahead and send us all forward toward that which delivers THE REAL THING to each of us.

Travel well, learn much, savor it all.

Soul Eyes

2010-04-01T07:23:00.000-07:00

Soul Eyes

She emerged on one

of the pages

from my

CitraSeal/National Geographic experiment.

She is my favorite

of all those pages,

actually.

Yesterday,

home from work with the snots,

I couched:

listening to this awesome new CD,

with my tea & blankie,

my pillow & Zoe,

my pens & journal.

Once I'd

spilled my proverbial guts

on the page,

in 5 pen colors,

I decided to camoflouge.

Sometimes

[sometimes]

thoughts just need to stay private,

ya know?

presently,

I'm re-visiting the influence of

Gustav Klimt,

my favorite artist,

thanks to this book

letting his shapes

flow through me.

Peaceful,

[despite my roiling, broiling stomach

& relentless coughing & kerblooeying!!]

to snooze a little,

sip a little,

wake to move a few pens around once more.

This kind of page is a transition for me.

I'm slowly getting used to it.

I'm uncertain if I like it.

I still resist

(in big parts of myself)

covering over my writing.

This book is 11 x 14,

so the whole page won't fit on

my scanner,

but you can still

get a sense

of the overall finished look.

* * * * * *

Materials:

metallic acrylics, 52 flavors of pens, fabric strip

* * * * * *

Because

I love to see

where visual journalers begin

with a page,

above is a scan of an upcoming background

in my Big Book,

spray painted background

and another CitraSeal/Nat'l Geo page

(my second favorite).

I'll scan this once I've worked the page

& show you

what it becomes.

Late for a Very Important Date

2010-03-30T07:36:00.000-07:00

After

drooling over,

following,

considering,

observing,

yearning toward

the

pages of

all the brilliant spray paint artists

in Bloglandia for

the last 3+ years,

but remaining only an ardent admirer ...

Spray Paint Love

has

finally

taken

hold of me.

Spray Paint,

Stencils,

& Silhouettes/Masks.

I am in possession of:

10 cans

of assorted spray paints,

not including RED,

[a gap which I will fill this evening].

I have

a 12" x 12"

plastic storage box

filled with stencils

I've collected

or cut

over the last 4 years.

I have one manila

file folder

full of silhouettes/masks

I've been cutting

for the last year.

My patio roost table

is now sheathed in

a large leaf & lawn bag,

taped down.

It has received a promotion,

you see,

Spray Paint Central.

True Story.

I have a box of

legal-sized

manila folders,

bought on sale at Walmart,

awaiting their turn

On The Table.

Tonight,

I'm going to Ace Hardware

to meet with Gabe,

my spray paint enabler,

to talk about masks,

so as to avoid

Spray Paint Hangover Head

such as I experienced yesterday.

And to buy a can of

RED.

I'm also going to mosey

thru the aisles

on the hunt

for interesting objects,

shapes, filters,

meshes,

chain, string,

anything

I can conceivably use as a stencil.

I've already

frisked my house

as thoroughly as possible,

I have the shop guys

here at work

on Seek-&-Find Patrol

amid their materials,

also!

Above:

I love this one

because

it looks like

old wallpaper,

torn & worn & stained & weathered,

such as I've seen

in abandoned

very old houses.

Toni's Spray Paint Campaign Has Begun!

My Mission

[which I've already chosen to accept]

is to build the backgrounds

for my next journal,

to ultimately be

coil-bound between

mat board covers

and

then toted about

in my

Big Ass Purse

for

daily journaling.

Spring Flower

2010-03-29T08:38:00.000-07:00

My Love, Ciera

Flower Child

Age 8, 3rd Grade

They Can't Touch Her Heart

2010-03-28T08:52:00.000-07:00

She is her own,

fully colorized,

uncooperative,

immune to the strings:

ALIVE INSIDE.

* * * * * *

[acrylics, copic markers, gel pens]

[assignment for on-line class]

Role Reversal

2010-03-26T06:42:00.000-07:00

Imagination -

Feral Friend -

Chairs the Casting Call.

* * * * * *

Heh Heh -

because turnabout is fair play,

dontcha know!

* * * * * *

[acrylics, torn vintage photo, 60-second graphite drawing,

India inks, various markers, sandpaper]

Glass Cage

2010-03-25T06:58:00.000-07:00

woman

seems

I am

mainly

expected

[expected, mind you]

confine

myself

objectified

state

perpetual

inconsequence.

* * * * * *

I DECLINE

* * * * * *

[acrylics, India Inks, pencil, handmade marbleized paper]

Illumined

2010-03-19T06:27:00.000-07:00

Alone in moonlight,

illumined,

I gentle myself.

[acrylic paint, various markers, gel pens,

charcoal, white chalk,

colored India ink, gloss gel medium sealer]

Inspiration ... becomes a Journal Page

2010-03-18T07:52:00.000-07:00

Amor Improvisado I

Artist Joe Ray

[used by permission]

I recognized this immediately:

the moment,

the energy,

the vibrancy.

I recognized this

- Amor Improvisado -

because

it is a recurring dream

mine.

Except ...

... except

my dream expresses

the moment,

the energy,

the vibrancy,

from a woman's perspective.

Same immediacy.

Same urgency.

Same abandon.

Same surrender.

Same internal whispers

of recognition

amid

the passion.

Yet not the same at all,

is it?

New Wheels

2010-03-17T08:38:00.000-07:00

My Love Ciera's Uncle,

my bro' The Bobfather,

sooprised her with a new bike.

But wait!

That doesn't look like Ciera!

Could it be?

Why - YES!!

IT'S MY LOVELY MOTHER!

Bad ass in shades, jeans & flip flops!

Ah yes,

here's the Wee Lassie --

on New Wheels

tall enough

for her long legs!

A-Wootin'

and

A-Tootin'

* * * * * *

I'll have my turn when I visit

this weekend!

I think I'll sport
my green wig
&
my new wellies
from Mom!

Self-Possessed

2010-03-16T06:38:00.000-07:00

'Lovers don't finally meet somewhere.

They're in each other all along.'

~ Rumi

* * * * * *

and when the lover within is Self?

* * * * * *

[acrylics, charcoal, various markers, stencils,

1-minute figure drawings on manila paper]

Essence

2010-03-15T06:48:00.000-07:00

Ahead of season

I am spring.

My essence blooms roots.

* * * * * *

[acrylic paint, charcoal, white chalk, gel medium]

Field Day

2010-03-12T06:42:00.000-08:00

This in from my bro', Chris, yesterday:

"Ciera's Field Day was fun and the weather was beautiful!"

They had 16 different events.

Her class lost their tug of war though -- DARN!

I had told her I wasn't coming and

she looked sad this morning.

She really gave me a big smile

when she saw me out on the field!"

Rain ... Birth

2010-03-11T06:27:00.000-08:00

' ... some of us here are real artists.'

'It's difficult to share the visceral and difficult life experiences;

what will the reaction be?'

'My pieces look so stupid compared to .... '

' ... fear ... to post my work.'

' ... loving the class but after seeing the other photos,

I think I'll just continue to lurk in the gallery.'

[comments/responses read in discussions held

at one of my on-line classes]

Emotions I have shared.

Emotions I still share.

Emotions,

I've come to see,

which have been

influencing

my blog, this blog,

Mermaid Tango.

But change - it's been a' comin'.

and

here it is.

Blogging creates,

in me,

a sense of accountability,

like a promise made,

but going forward I am shifting that

commitment to myself.

I want to create!

I want to create

my own

art,

writing,

experiments,

ventures and adventures,

as my priority.

If I create something to post,

I feel more

viable,

productive,

self-actualizing,

self-propelling.

My blog has felt

increasingly

disassociated from me.

I am the Mermaid,

trying to process

the journey of

my tango,

within and without.

I still yearn

[ Y E A R N ]

to other artists,

and

I still want to engage, converse,

share, learn, collaborate.

But

if I'm not creating anything,

I'm distilling myself

to a mere audience for others.

God help me,

but

I'm terrified

of allowing myself

to become

A Shadow Artist.

I want ...

[say it, Tonia]

I want to be SEEN,

starting with my own eyes.

A statement met with a

swoop of Takeover-Level fear.

Fear of being responsible

to my own creativity,

setting goals,

commiting to my ideas,

my practice of art and writing.

Fear

putting

work

out

there.

Fear that

turns my stomach to acid,

raises finger-pointing self-contempt,

animates self-doubt,

tunes up my

self-torturing

Critic Amen Choir.

But!

will

not

stop

creating.

Real projects,

with aim,

to articulate my

artist,

writer,

photographer,

mail-art bandit,

collage beastie,

mess-maker,

SELF.

I am worthy!

I am

THE REAL THING.

Toni Steps Up.

Toni says,

for all my inner

goblins and spooks to hear:

I AM AN ARTIST.

What I create,

whatever that is,

is what I create,

my best at this point in my journey.

am going to

practice

turning the

spotlight on myself.

Reorient

my priorities.

Become my own

Principal Player.

Lift my

head

heart

arms

chin

imagination

voice

soul

in a resounding

YES.

Yes! Yes! Yes!

featured art work my own,

pieces created

either for

an online class

mail art

Chilean Dreamer: Guest Artist Liz Larson

2010-03-10T07:29:00.000-08:00

Chileandreamer Jewelry and Design: Creativity Inspirations
Text and Photos by Liz Larson

My name is Liz, and I design and create artisan wire-wrapped jewelry. I know it sounds a little like an addiction meeting, and it should! Since I opened Chileandreamer Jewelry & Design (http://www.chileandreamer.etsy.com/) on Etsy over a year ago, it’s taken all my free time. It’s lucky I love what I do! However, I have to admit there are periods where I have creativity in abundance, and periods where I feel creatively stymied. I go for a lot of walks during these periods, since inspiration is found in the strangest places! I often find inspiration outside, looking at the structure of buildings, frost patterns, waves, or the way a vine curls.

A little about me: I am truly a crafter at heart, and have so much respect for people who craft with their hands! I love to sew, both by hand and with the horribly seductive convenience of my sewing machine. Music is another passion of mine; I am a vocalist and have played piano and cello since an early age. I have a fantastic husband who is wonderfully supportive of my jewelry work, and who makes me laugh everyday!

A lot of my inspiration comes from the stone I’m working with. I am always intrigued by unique new stones with new colors and textures and patterns - I’ll see a stone and my brain instantly starts designing! Sometimes there are parts of the stone I want to feature, such as stripes I can accentuate with wire lines.

Most of the stones I work with inadvertently fall into one of two categories. There are stones that look best wrapped very simply to feature the stone, and there are also stones where I can let my creativity flow further and create intricate wire designs that are reminiscent of nature or emotion.

Sometimes the wrap design reflects my state of mind, or a state of mind I want to evoke in others. I am a great fan of jewelry that speaks secretly to you; wearing a necklace that puts you in a specific state of mind, or that means something just to you.

Often I’ll idly sketch a design that seems unfeasible, and then I’ll select the right stone and see how close I can get. Sometimes I’ll be halfway through creating a design, and I’ll see other places the design could go, so I end up with inspiration for a second piece. For example, I was creating the Lorelei necklace when I saw the design for the Intertwined necklace.

Often the clients I work with have also been instrumental in my creative process. I’ve been approached several times to design for wedding or bridesmaid jewelry, and it’s a fun balance between my artistic ideas and the clients’. I happily do custom orders, as working with someone else helps me think outside the box!

Advice for new artists? Always be stretching your creative bounds. The more you try to work around problems and create things you’ve never done before, the more possibilities you’ll see.

Happy creating! Thanks to the wonderful Toni for an amazing blog, and for hosting my guest post!

~Liz
http://www.chileandreamer.etsy.com/

THANK YOU, LIZ!!

Take a 'Focus Walk' Excursion

2010-03-09T05:58:00.000-08:00

Walk with a focused eye,

a purpose.

Below --

my 'homework'

for an on-line class --

to walk,

and to notice

[LOOK FOR]

text,
numbers,

fonts,

letter shapes,

graphics,

graffiti,

and
'artful' details

in unexpected places.

Try It!

Presence & Offerings of My Wise Ones

2010-03-08T12:35:00.000-08:00

I won't tell you the meanings I see here,

my personal connections,

the lessons involved --

because

it just may be

you will discover

something(s)

for yourself,

& wouldn't that be

FABULOUS?

All photos mine,

from a Sunday

'Rainy Day Gallivant'

with

My Lovely Mother.

Structural Engineering is Art - Guest Artist "M.H."

2010-03-05T05:30:00.000-08:00

Orthodox Church, Arizona

Structural Engineer: The underwriter

Building Area: 14,056 square feet.

Unit structural building cost: $43.47/sq ft.

Close communication between the Architect, the Structural Engineer and the Builder allowed for a structural design that provided for the distinctive architecture, economically and such that the structural solution could be built within the time constraints of the Building Committee.

The 156 feet long by 82 feet wide building was designed such that the gravitational loads as well as the lateral loads from wind and earthquake were transmitted from the roof diaphragm to the post-tensioned foundation through light gauge steel trusses supported by steel beams and steel columns, as well as light gauge steel stud walls clad with steel siding and masonry walls. Additional shear walls were required at some key locations in order to assure the redundant behavior of the structural system handling the lateral loads. Columns and Shear Walls were placed around the building perimeter as the Owner and Architect could not tolerate any sightline obstructions within the Church Sanctuary.

The 35-foot diameter, 10-foot tall dome was designed of light gauge steel trusses converging towards the central ring located some 45 feet above the finished floor. The dome is supported by a series of long span, steel beams such that no columns fell within the sanctuary as reported above. The mezzanine deck, at the perimeter of the building, functions as an auditorium, building storage and bookstore, and was designed of light gauge steel trusses supported by steel beams and steel columns; again, with a minimum of columns. The steel beam structural system is simple, yet effectively chosen to withstand the gravitational loads from the dome, roof and suspended floor.

The elevator between the ground and upper floor was accommodated into the design, such that the integration of the elevator element, as a shear core, contributes substantially to the lateral load resisting elements of the structure.

As a typical Orthodox Church signature, the bell tower rises up to 47 feet above finished floor. The bell tower was designed of masonry walls with a light gauge steel domed roof. The lower 21 feet of the tower consists of arched entryways to accommodate entry, walk-through and stairwells and is supported on four “L-shaped” masonry legs.

The foundation of the building was not only designed to safely carry the load from the structural elements to the ground, but also to accommodate the impact of the highly expansive soil. Since the Building Committee desired installation of granite over the finished floor, a post-tension slab design was the solution to respond to floor loads, point loads, crack control, and serviceability issues. The post-tension slab enables and facilitates the granite application over the large main floor surface area as construction joints and slab control joints could be eliminated. The main floor slab is thus placed in compression in both north/south and east/west directions and with the elimination of the construction and control joints and the inclusion of a fracture membrane between the slab and the granite floor tiles, the risk of tile cracking due to slab movement and concrete shrinkage was substantially mitigated.

The slab design result was a state of the art post-tension slab, 156 feet long by 82 feet wide by 11 inches thick. A total of 134, ½ inch diameter tendons up to 156 feet long spaced at 12 inches to 16 inches in the long direction and 17 inches to 25 inches in the short direction were used for the post-tensioning phase of the foundation.

The Structural Engineer is proud to have been associated with this project and was doubly pleased that the project was completed on time, within the very tight budget of the congregation, and provided a structural solution to achieve the distinctive and classic appearance developed by the Architect.

Respectfully submitted,
"M.H."
The Structural Engineer

* * * * * * * * * *

Thank you, "M.H.",

for finding a way to

create this post

without compromising the client.

Fragments

2010-03-04T06:20:00.000-08:00

You'll notice,

upcoming/ongoing,

adjustments to posts here at Mermaid Tango.

As I'm learning,

techniques, events,

and Guest Artist opportunities

require

infinitely more

flexibility & spontaneity

than I've been allowing.

As well,

scheduling a regular post for Fridays

was a stroke of 'Dumb Blond' on my part!

My obligations

(not to mention stress level)

that day just

won't have it!

Meanwhile,

I leave you with a fragment

of a Mail Art piece

from my Freedom Wall -

I can't part with this yet!

Happy Thursday!

Storyboard Says ...

2010-03-03T06:26:00.000-08:00

There Is No Rescue

'J' [a friend] is right -- he's a facilitator.

No one except me can be the practitioner.

I wrote it a minute ago:

THERE IS NO RESCUE.

I don't want to want rescue, either.

But there is help.

Guidance, suggestion,

advice,

opportunity by association.

It's incumbent on me to make use of all that.

Flight or grounding, coccoon or wings -

that choice will always and only be my own.

If I crave autonomy in the most authentic way,

then I have to do the work myself.

Then and only then do I own the lessons,

and the resultant life,

firsthand.

Saying "yes" is part of that.

Saying "no" is, also.

Oddly, neither is easy or certain.

Some choices are wholly instinct-driven.

This (above) is not the fantasy I want anymore.

Rescue.

Choice based on safety

or habit

or externally defined

mindsets

and

traditions.

The cost of rescue is

servitude of some sort

to the rescuer.

Safety is a cage.

Norms don't allow

individuation or growth

for any of those involved.

All of it is like

voluntarily

lacing up concrete shoes

kissing flight goodbye.

No!

It's not my ambition to be a 'lady.'

I strive to be

A Woman,

of the singular sort:

Me! Self!

Love me or not,

but retaining my wholeness regardless.

I'm earning that right,

bit by bit,

tiny baby step by tiny baby step,

choice by conscious choice,

walking ahead even with fear in tow.

Fear,

as it turns out,

can be an awesome catalyst,

if allowed.

Yes.

Or no.

MY voice.

It is past the time

to question

everything,

and

to watch

the

real

responses

rise.

Tuesday Technique'N: Go on An Artists' Date - The Real Thing

2010-03-02T06:02:00.000-08:00

The Plan:

The Place: Grand Lux Cafe, Scottsdale, AZ

The Time: 3 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon

The Artists: eb bunsen and yours truly

The Purpose: our first personal meeting, tea, and journaling

eb's choice.

I selected Egyptian Chamomile tea.

I also ordered the creme brulee duo,

inspired by a light fixture

directly overhead.

eb's idea of 'helping me'

with the dessert

was to take

One Single Forkful

out of each.

Harrumpph.

Our poor waitress,

Tereshia,

had to come back several times

to actually obtain our order.

eb was teaching me

how to do a photo transfer,

dontcha know.

Priorities!

The wooden spoon?

A critical technique tool.

The lemons?

Picturesque, of course!

We both whipped out our cameras

at the same time,

then collapsed in laughter!

eb said, 'You are SO a woman after my own heart!'

I said, 'Get your shadow outta my picture!'

(no, I didn't really!)

We asked when we came in

if we could take photos.

Yes.

But when we did,

on our way out,

the General Manager

hurried over to say,

'Not allowed, actually!'

[What is UP with that, anyway?]

I'm thinking of creating a

piece of mail art & sending it to him,

so he can see how harmless

we journaling nuts really are

with our photos --

we're not stealing ideas for our own cafe,

really, we're not.

We just want commemorative

& GORGEOUS

photos for our journal pages,

Dude.

The Result:

* Discovery of a like-minded soul friend

(one who actually thought me 'mellow',

not to mention 'in my late 30s' - woot! -

I had to say,

"No, Dearest,

I'm hip to the hot flash syndrome myself!")

* A Creme Brulee sugar rush that carried

me through to bedtime!

(Yes, I finished them both, okayuh?!)

* photo transfers that finally transfer

(except now my printer stopped working!!)

* The realization of how lonely I've been,

working in solitude as I do,

& how incredible it is

to emerge,

to connect,

to 'talk journal'

(& specifically: JOURNAL)

with someone else who entirely 'gets it',

to put the journal, finally, aside

because the dialogue is so

dimensional,

hilarious,

intelligent,

opening,

to See,

& Be Seen!

Our Advice:

Make it,

at minimum,

an Annual Event!!

We are.

Welcome to the Steampunk Zone!

2010-02-26T13:18:00.000-08:00

The ad that drew me in the doors

of Art Space on Sixth.

I walked in.

I said,

"Can anyone please 'splain me

what, exactly,

'Steampunk' means?'

***

From the 1870s to about the 1940s,

before the true technology takeover,

Steampunk

referred to artists, authors, etc.

who made art endeavoring to

illustrate their individual ideas

as to what the future would be like.

***

Ok, that's a start.

I turn,

I mosey into one of the exhibit rooms,

sorta kinda anxiously reading

every single label to

see if it said Steampunk.

But then!

Here she came:

And then things got goooOOoood!

Ed Schenck piece,

looking like every alien in every

old comic book I ever laid eyes on.

Also rather like ET on crack, huh?

[Or is that Toni on crack,

looking at ET?]

Drawings, left, right, by Nina Pak.

More, later, on

the midriff in the center.

Ed Schenck?

I love

what you do with found objects.

Doesn't this look like

the Alien,

from the original movie?

Bad A**!

Details

This is beyond cool,

beyond fierce,

beyond any ray gun I

evah

got from mailing in cereal box tops.

Angel, and Ray Guns.

And a War and Peace combination

pinball/target shooting gizmo.

Angel rocked it.

I missed a lot.

Ray guns - Ed Schenck

War and Peace gizmo - Ken Coplan

See,

Angel gets to touch,

even tho' all the signs say

'please don't'

to exhibit viewers such as myself.

So when Angel touched,

Toni got to touch, too.
Toni likes to touch,
especially ray guns.

Ken Coplan's pieces,

also of found objects,

hushed me.

Juxtoposition of bullet casings and

angel heads,

rusted out bottle openers,

screws, springs,

some with on buttons,

all with gorgeous patina?

Well, lots to think about

and take in.

Future Fashion

from the inventive mind of

artist Sarah Welch,

constructed of recycled products.

I would SO wear this!

Having seen this much,

I'm ready to do some personal research

on the genre,

and return.

For Phoenix-Metro area locals

The Full Steam-Punk Ahead Exhibit

lasts through Sunday, February 28th, 2010

11 a.m. to 6 p.m., free admission

at ArtSpace on Sixth

7127 East Sixth Avenue, Scottsdale

480-423-0888

Ask for Angel!

Friday Reflections: Guest Artist Susan Taylor Brown

2010-02-26T05:32:00.000-08:00

Opening Closed Doors
by Susan Taylor Brown

Whenever people ask about the whys and the hows of what I do in my poetry workshops with incarcerated youth, I often struggle for a starting point.

How do I tell you about the sight of a boy pouring his heart out on the page with no one standing over him telling him he is dumb for doing it? How do I tell you about the pride of a young man standing up to read his poem to the class, a poem that exposes the deepest hurting part of himself? How do I tell you that the simple act of me showing up every session, no matter what they said or did or tried to do to push me away, that my showing up showed them that someone cared which meant that they were worth caring about, worth saving? How do I show you the very heart of these boys, these boys who had never written poetry before, who tried so hard at something so new, and who succeeded beyond my expectations?

STUDENT POEM

Taking a Chance On
My life
This program
Change
Reinventing my behavior
For my family
For myself
To do right
To succeed in life
Dealing with my issues
Myself to become a better person

Maybe I start by telling you not about these boys but about someone else in my life that I love very much, someone who struggles with demons that threaten to overwhelm them, someone who feels worthless and unloved and as a result makes bad choices that result in negative consequences that cause that person to continue to spiral downward.

Someone I can’t save no matter how many times I’ve tried.

I’m a children’s writer and poet by trade and I tell stories to try and fix things in my life that I can’t ever seem to really fix for real. I’m a fatherless daughter that writes stories about positive relationships between fathers and daughters. I’m a divorced mom who writes stories about kids trying to make sense of broken families. I’ve been poor and abused and I write stories to try and understand why those things happened to me and how to keep them from happening again.

The local arts council in my town has a wonderful program that matches up visual artists, musicians, dancers and writers with teenaged students in the at-risk population. The idea is that art empowers these teens to make a difference in their lives. Kids who don’t or won’t talk to teachers or counselors can often find a way to work out through art. I’m lucky enough to have received grants the past few years which have allowed me to go into alternative schools; usually with students who are incarcerated, and try to teach them what I know how to do best . . . spill your guts on paper.

Try is the operative word here because it doesn’t always work. These kids are locked up both literally and metaphorically. They have been in and of gangs, jail, and foster homes. They have learning problems, language problems, and a giant dose of attitude - But they all have something to say.

One of the most difficult students I’ve ever had was Edgar. He was big, built like a battering ram. He had escaped a detention facility and had been on the run for two years. At sixteen he was back in the classroom and wearing an electronic surveillance ankle bracelet. He wrote about gang life, getting drunk, and hurting people. He was the only student who ever made me feel afraid and I never really felt like I connected with him until the day I asked the class, "If you could go back and change something in your life, what would change and why?"

Some kids went right to work writing. But not Edgar. He just leaned over the desk and held his head in his hands. When I asked him what was wrong he told me he didn't have enough paper. I thought he meant to write on so I put a stack of paper on his desk.

Then he told me no, he meant, there wasn't enough paper in the world for him to write about it all. He said he'd change everything. Then he said that it didn't matter. That he had screwed up, he was going to court the next week, and he knew he was going to be locked up again.

I didn't ask any questions. I just told him to write.

All the other students finished and left but Edgar kept on writing.

When he finally got ready to go he told me that writing was hard but that it made him think. And sometimes it even made him feel sorry for the things he had done.

STUDENT POEM
I am locked up in the hall.
I wonder how long I have to be under the system’s armpits.
I hear the white walls talk.
I see compadres coming in and out of this place.
I want all this to come to a stop.
I am locked up in the hall.
I pretend to understand myself.
I feel under a spell.
I touch my face wondering how I look after all the years of being gone from home.
I worry I won’t make it in the real world.
I cry inside my head cuz I gotta stay strong.
I am locked up in the hall.
I understand my mistakes.
I say enough with all this.
I dream to be out one day.
I try to escape my vida loca.
I hope these demons inside of me will leave me alone.
I am locked up in the hall.

People ask me what I do exactly, how I prepare for the sessions and the truth is that it’s hard to prepare for this sort of thing. I try but it’s mostly different every time. A few things stay the same. I read them some poems at the beginning of each session. Their reactions to those poems, and the discussions that come as a result, help me decide what to bring in the next time. I usually start of with acrostic poems because most of them are familiar with the format and by doing a name poem it helps me get to know who they are. I talk about using all five senses early on because they it becomes a warm-up to do a group poem using all the senses before we get down to the writing of the day. I like to do a family poem because these kids, especially the ones who have been locked up for a while, family is everything. I have to prepare a new lesson plan each night because so much of it depends on how things went in the previous session. And I always bring a couple of extra lesson ideas because sometimes what seems like a good idea falls completely flat.

There are so many things to be aware when I go into these classrooms. I need to not wear blue or red because those are the colors of the rival gangs of my area. In some places I need to pin my long hair up so they can’t grab it and not wear long dangling earrings. I need to not let them write about gangs and drugs and much of the only life they know. When we do art I need to make sure they don’t sneak some gang symbols onto the page. And they always try. The class never stays the same. Some kids are removed. Some new kids join. Some work willingly and some, even with the threat of losing privileges would prefer to challenge me every step of the way.

But the hardest part of it all is something I can’t prepare for – their reaction to me. Some of them are outright hostile. Some just silent. Some want to be the class clown and some want to disappear. I never know how I am going to deal with each of these situations until I’m right smack in the middle of it. Sometimes what I do works and sometimes it doesn’t and I have to try again.

But when it works, it works in amazing ways.

The lonely boy whose dad only cared about getting drunk and smacking him around wrote love poems for his girlfriend.

The boy who was an overachiever at everything, including being a gang member, wrote long poems about his family and how much they meant to him.

The class clown wrote about having no friends.

The boy who knew he might never get out of jail again wrote poems of apology to his mother.

Powerful stuff.

Becoming involved in poetry helped open the prison doors of their souls. They became vulnerable and real. The simple act of me showing up every session, no matter how hard they pushed me away, showed them someone cared. It gave them hope. And the way I look at it, if we can give them hope, we can help them make a change in their life.

Here is a group poem the kids wrote in one of my sessions.

Poetry
has a beautiful life to it.
You sound like happiness, sadness, love
taste like fresh strawberries
and feel like soft skin, sandpaper, a brick wall.
Poetry is all the colors of the rainbow
and smells like freedom, incarceration, a sexy girl.
Oh poetry, you drive me crazy.
You make me want to scream, to feel, to heal.
You look like sunshine and moonlight in the city.
Poetry is feelings on paper.

This isn’t easy work and I’m not the brave, strong person some people think I am. But I love words. I believe they have enormous power. Power to do good, power to heal, power to bring hope.

I believe we need to dare these kids to look at their lives differently. We need to give them new tools for expressing themselves.

And then we need to listen to what they have to say.

* * * * * * * * * *
Susan Taylor Brown is the author of many books for children including the award winning verse novel, Hugging the Rock and the forthcoming picture book, Enrique Esparza and the Battle at the Alamo.

Visit her website at http://susantaylorbrown.com/ or her blog http://susanwrites.livejournal.com/

Susan blogs in-depth about each of her poetry sessions with incarcerated students. To go directly to those posts, click here: http://susanwrites.livejournal.com/tag/incarcerated%20poetry

* * * * * * * * * *

SUSAN,

THANK YOU FROM MY GUTS

FOR THIS POST!

A Creativity Consumer

2010-02-24T05:46:00.000-08:00

Today, I told someone I consider myself a 'user' -- that I take everything in, then distill it to aid my writing. Period. Bottom line. Other forms of expression come and go -- when they cease to feed my pen, they're ejected. But the next thing I 'need' always presents itself.

Mainstays: music and photography. But I'm forever searching out the 'new' in those genres: new-to-me, that is. Brain food -- and not, necessarily, 'intellectual' -- but certainly stimulating on some level, preferably multiple levels. I'm a hussy for literal and figurative forks-in-the-road, spontaneous pull-overs, tangents and detours -- no itinerary. I love surprises: my own, and others'. I can keep a secret. I enforce change even in the routine -- rearrange my drive to work, rearrange my furniture, change my hair color, my linens, my inspiration board or items. When I've outgrown an attachment to something, when it no longer pulls growth from me, the sentiment and my attachment to it die. I give it away - no looking back. I purge every 3 months - clothes, books, art supplies, dishes, DVDs. CDs are the hardest to part with, but that's because I've learned that in a month, a year, two years, they become new to me again, because I'm different, my listening and responses are different.

I used to watch the same movies over and again, re-read the same books. But no longer -- I want the novelty of fresh stories, characters, ideas. My journal? Every time I begin a new book, the book itself is different, and my approach has mutated. I write with an altered focus. I do or don't add visuals, less or more, often none. I incorporate lyrics or quotes in this book, then abstain completely in the next. I listen to music as I write in one book, crave silence during the next. The only consistency is the words -- my need for them, the page and the pen. Lately, I'm entirely suspicious of the familiar, when for years I was afraid of down time, when I didn't write -- no, when I didn't want to write, as if I'd lost it forever.

Now, I accept. That's really been a refrain for me the last six months: accept. Accept. Accept. Change or stasis, energy or exhaustion, serenity or frustration. Everything, every bit of it, leads to discovery. An ongoing issue in my life has been trust -- my exceeding caution there, my withdrawing even from people or situations that deserved it. Acceptance is the inroad to trust, and I'm gaining on it. I've written a journal for 34 and a half years, and what I've seen is that only the habit of writing is fixed -- my perspective, always shifting, expanding, keeps me fascinated. If that's not trust, what is?

Narcissism? That's "me me me" without growth or introspection. My journal has always been the place where I expect the most from myself, hardcore truth-telling, the ugly alongside the progress, the beautiful accompanying the setbacks. Spelled out, and then some! Reviewed. Considered. Patterns of behaviors? Oh yea! Obstinacy, denial, justification? Uh huh, in abundance. But soon followed by admittance, confession, and the outline of lessons learned, absorbed. Lessons absorbed then slowly -- s l o w l y -- effected.

My journal has an insatiable appetite, so I feed and feed and feed it, with blogs, interviews, documentaries, articles, interactions, biographies, magazines, events, contacts, exchanges. It's not that I'm fearless. Not at all. It's that I'm usually scared to the near-core, but the core core says, "Go! Go -- anyway! Go -- in spite of! Go! Because there's something there." Something not just for me, but for others -- eventually, somehow, some way. Husband, sons, family, friends, associates, acquaintances, strangers -- all! Because if I make my self, my mind, my world larger, I may effect enlargement elsewhere. I believe I'm needed, that way. I believe we're all needed, that way.

So I'm a creativity consumer -- but I recycle. Unusual concept of a food chain, maybe. But you know, it's like this: a chance meeting at a writing workshop and my world has since opened exponentially. That meeting has facilitated an artist interview, a perfectly timed meditation CD, a book that has validated events in my life back to the age of 6, and a steadily growing friendship. How can I ever know the tides I'll turn by chance [by chance? or by need, by placement?] in someone else's life?

I want to be sure I always show up, and my journal is my impetus to that. Take this post, for instance -- a thought-flow lifted straight from its pages, no editing, no cleaning up or coordinating, so you can see how it happens -- at least for me.

* * * * * * * * * *

Photos mine, from the car show and an airport where My Lovely Mother, my bros, and My Love, Ciera, watched gliders take off and land, February 13, 2010

Tuesday Technique'N: Collage Sheet Art with Guest Artist Mary Mata

2010-02-23T05:31:00.000-08:00

Collage Sheet Card & ATC Creations
Text & Photos - Mary Mata

The idea for making my collage sheets evolved naturally from my own card making. At the time I was making cards from my photographs. I soon wanted somthing a little different. Collage was a great way to put a lot of 'pretty' in one space. I was also teaching myself Photoshop so the ideas just came together easier after that. After making collage style cards for resell, I thought, "Hmmm. Why not create art for others to make their own cards?" The rest is history.

Much of the inspiration for my art and collage sheets comes from my own photography and vintage photographs. I love color, so everything gets a healthy dose of it!

The first project I wanted to share with you is a card made from my 'Raven Hair Beauty Card Collage Sheet'.

Materials used are:
Blank card (cut an 8-1/2 x 11 in two, then fold)
Glue - I like quick dry tacky glue or photo safe glue
Ink pads in colors to match - pigment inks work best
Glimmer Mist - love this stuff
Scissors
Metallic Gel Pens for embellishing
Collage Sheet(s) of course!
Ephemera if desired

Once you have cut all the images from the collage sheet, start layering them to find a composition you like.

When you find a look you like, lightly mist the background with silver Glimmer Mist. Let it dry.

Choose your ink pad in the color you like and ink the edges of all your pieces. Let those dry. Ink the edge of your card background. Now you are ready to glue!

Glue background with all your pretty pieces. Let the glue dry. And now, if you'd like, you can embellish with your metallic gel pens.

Completed Card.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The second project I want to share with you is an ATC made from my Seaside Card Collage Sheet.

Materials use are the same as those above, with the exception of a blank ATC background, and a gold star I glued under the butterfly.

The technique for the ATC is the same as for the card ...

that's because I have a very short attention span and need instant gratification!

I do like to glue my ATC to a sturdier background, though, such as watercolor paper or card stock, cut to size.

Completed ATC

I also like to use shipping tags to make tags or bookmarks. Some like to decorate their scrapbook pages.

And transparencies add a further layer of dimension and allure to your project.

THE SKY IS THE LIMIT!

About me:

I grew up out in the country in sunny California. We always had a garden, so I developed a love for the earth and all its beauty. I got my love for photography from my dad, but I was always drawing pictures as a kid. I am self taught, with the exception of a few classes I took in high school. Everything I know about art and photography comes from reading a book, experience, and studying others peoples art. I tend to like the Art Nouveau and Art Deco look, so I do lean in that direction.

I worked as a wedding photographer for over 15 years, so I did teach myself photoshop. But because I was an artist before I was a photographer, I would constantly look for ways to make my photographs look more like art. That's where collage came in. It was a natural progression inside my 'let's go in twenty different directions' brain.

When I started the collage sheets, I was already making my own cards. There were collage sheets already on the market, but most featured clips of ephemera, not something you could create a card from with one sheet. My sheets also tell a story via my use of coordinated images versus just a group of unrelated pictures.

You can find my collage sheets, along with other fun stuff to create with at mataart42.etsy.com
If you have any questions or comments, please email me at studiomem@yahoo.com

* * * * * * * * * *

Mary Mata's collage sheet images have been gracing the pages of my written journal, my visual journal, my hand-crafted cards, and my mixed media canvases for the last three years. She, along with one other artist, is my favorite source for collage sheets -- they express my internal horizons and visions; they are what I would create if I could! I couldn't believe it when I discovered them, as if Mary had taken the extended world tour of my mind and imagination! I visit her ETSY shop just to soak in the loveliness, and for a perfect mental escape!

Mary, my excitement level at

having you here for a

Guest Artist technique post

can't be articulated.

THANK YOU!!!

Rice Freeman-Zachery at Frenzy Stamper

2010-02-20T07:11:00.000-08:00

The Place: Frenzy Stamper,Scottsdale, AZ

The time: 5:50 p.m.

The Hostess (& Shopping/Workshop Enabler):

Debbie, Frenzy Stamper Proprietor

The Coveted Object of Our Friday evening quest:

Rice Freeman-Zachery's newly published book,

Creative Time and Space: Making Room for Making Art

Or, in my case,

the author herself.

I, too, dressed in orange, in her honor,

my hair recently colored red!

Double BB, my curious consort,

wore his pale tangerine shirt.

Some occasions just warrant going all out!

Rice's publications, new and older,

awaiting us - tabletop.

My fellow questers,

sitting around the table,

all of us chatting,

sharing stories of our jewelry,

travel experiences,

film recommendations

(GO SEE/RENT THE HANGOVER)

On the left, above?

With the to-die-for hair?

Traci from Tempe,

someone I'd also arranged to meet

personally for the first time.

Even Double BB said,

'Hey, next time you change up your head,

try that style, would ya?'

More friends of Rice, her books;

Rice's gawgeous orange hair at bottom.

Much as I love her hair,

I was even more enthralled by her tattoo art.

And every piece of jewelry comes with a story!

Rice, in case you couldn't guess already,

is a serious story teller,

of the oral as well as written tradition!

File folders with truth telling labels,

at last!

I suggested "uber crap".

Another friend recommended "big steaming pile of crap."

Rice's favorite, in hand.

Rice's favorite,

& some tomfoolery!

A group of women and no tomfoolery?

Yea -- not!

It's The EGE to the rescue!

The Ever Gorgeous Earl slays the

Total Crap Folder Wielding Fan!

(not really, but it sounds good)

In fact,

a more warm, engaging & smiling man

would be hard-pressed to meet.

Except ... wait a minute ...

Double BB was there!

The EGE here models attire dyed by

his fabric art queen herself,

Rice.

& Double BB in tangerine -- yummmmm.

I said 'Gimme Beautiful!' for this pose;

all I got was 'cool'

(beautiful being self-evident, dontcha know).

Uh Huh -- Coupla Bad A**es -- yup.

More like

two awesome scoops of 'warm, engaging & laughing' manhood!

(& yes, also cool, & beautiful).

An autograph for moi,

in orange,

in the NEW book.

An autograph for Double BB

in my copy of her previous release.

And then,

alas,

Double BB had to be fed,

so we hugged goodbyes all around

& moseyed out into the desert night,

with a serious case

of the GRINS!!

* * * * * * * * * *

What impresses me most about all of this is

the realization that for me,

for all of us there to meet her,

to have books signed,

Rice and The Ege are just TWO people we are meeting.

We feel we 'know' her from her books, her art,

her podcast interviews with other artists;

that we know them both from Rice's

incredibly humorous, raw and telling blog.

But at each of her stops on this book signing tour,

she is meeting skads of us,

her admirers & followers,

and if my experience last night was any indication,

she and The EGE,

both,

are somehow able to make each of us

feel known in return,

made individual, Seen, Recognized.

Of course that's not possible,

for them to be able to absorb so many,

in so many places,

but the grace of creating that connection

in the moment

is a lesson I learned last night,

and something I hope to effect,

convey,

improve upon

in each of my daily interactions.

As for Double BB,

he wants to set up a trip to Midland, Texas

and see 'bout shooting some hoops

with The EGE.

Earl? that would be a challenge!

You say when!

Friday Reflections: Guest Artist Joe Ray

2010-02-19T05:34:00.000-08:00

Creativity and the Witching Hour

Text and Photos -- Joe Ray

My witching hour is between 3 and 4 a.m. on weekends. It’s when some invisible hand has nudged me and whispered in my ear, “Get up, there’s something to be done in an uninterrupted manner. I’ll show you. Get up.” I usually protest a little, but on the early side, I’m up at 3 or 3:15. On the later side -- 4 – 4:30. It’s dark outside as well as quiet. Sometimes the moon shines brightly as it smiles from above and at other times it gives me that slivery smile and a wink with minimal light. I’m always a little skeptical; you can’t always believe what the moon tells you.

I enjoy getting up at this time and with coffee in hand, music turned on, I begin to lay colors onto my palette or open a container I’ve already mixed paint in. Part of what was calling out to me are usually one or two of the works in progress on my desk on the easel. They’ve been waiting patiently for me to show up. We begin a little dance, a courtship of sorts where I whip a dry brush around as a warm up, sort of like a bird prancing and shaking its feathers before its mate. I smile and begin. This is the part of the day that sets up a great beginning for me. It puts me in a good mood. By 10 a.m. I’ve gotten a lot done. I’ve had a parade of possible scenarios prance through my head, all in time to the music playing. In between songs I can hear quail and other birds coming to life outside of my window. Maybe I woke them up. I’ll step outside for a few minutes before I get into the zone and ponder the sky -- that’s how I know what mood the moon’s in. I proceed accordingly. The fresh air in the morning is invigorating, rich with the smell of the desert and creosote accented with the silhouetted butte across the street at Papago.

Typically, I work on 4 or 5 pieces at one time. This time of day allows me to see each clearly and imagine somehow the final outcome and have a small conversation with each piece. There is no jealousy here; it’s a communal give and take thing. We’re all happy.

The beauty of working at this time of day is that it’s the best way I can think of to unleash creativity. The only thing I’ve been through at this point has been sleeping, dreaming and the occasional astro-projection activities. I always make it a point to write something in my journal during the morning as I paint (I’m actually a pretty good multi-tasker on my terms, and these are my terms). Sometimes my journal entries are sketches, sometimes arrows punctuated with fragmented words that mean nothing to anyone but me. That’s okay, it’s my world, my universe at this hour.

It’s important to journal. I don’t think you can look at pictures without knowing the words, saying them, hearing them, writing them and reading them. Words have helped me see pictures more clearly, they’ve defined colors for me. Most of these words don’t appear in a cohesive manner or in anything resembling a completed paragraph. 2 or 3 words can mean a page full of paragraphs to me when applied on a sheet of paper. I’ve been journaling off and on since I was a teenager. In college I embraced classes where we were to journal events; it was something I thrived on.

I used to throw away my completed and filled journals until some time in the mid to late 90s when someone asked why I tossed them and didn’t keep them. I didn’t have an answer - it had never occurred to me to keep them until that moment. Since then, I’ve acquired a bunch of bound books filled with thoughts, nonsense, dreams and arrows in them. They seem to have multiplied at the rate of 2, sometimes 3 per year. Sometimes I find inspiration in sketches that I’ve made through the years in these books. Sometimes the writings in them bring lost joy, sadness and feelings of “man, am I glad to be done with that phase”. These words often find themselves onto canvas or on paper that I happen to be working on. Words on (or about) color are under appreciated beauty, especially when both English and Spanish are combined, fused together for a greater good that somehow makes more sense.

What we write, what we create and dream are a large part of what defines us. It prepares me to go out into the world and interact, which I absolutely love doing. If I happen to have a journal with me at a bar (usually when traveling) or at a party, I’ll ask whomever is with me to write something in the book for me, or to draw me a picture. This takes people by surprise but I find it no different than asking someone to pose with you for a photo, or even ask to take their picture. I feel that this is where the most personal and deep crevices of our creative juices mix with that which others have. A creative and creationist oriented cocktail of sorts. Served straight up.

Yeah, that’s it.

* * * * * * * * * *

Joe is an hispanic painter and printmaker living in Scottsdale, Arizona - a place with quite a bit of dust, rocks and great sunsets.

Most of Joe’s work is reflective of a bi-cultural perspective formed by the Arizona and Mexico region(s),

the people living in that region as well as a contemporary Chicano perspective. The work speaks to the Mexicano, the Chicano, the Hispanic and the Gavacho.

Joe is also Creative Director and Principal of Estudio Ray, a strategic design and branding firm in Phoenix.

The Joe Ray creative & creationist-oriented cocktail bar, serving up his original art, can be found here!

* * * * * * * * * *

Gracias, Señor El Artist!

Somebody Stole My Idea!

2010-02-16T19:34:00.000-08:00

Oh really?

Well now ... .

I just dug out my kitchen timer.

You will have

5 ENTIRE MINUTES

from the moment I say GO!
to

rant

sulk

pout

cry

gnash your teeth

snarl

drop "F-bombs"

beat pillows

curse the winds
blame everyone else

give up

& otherwise

have yourself

A Bonafide Hissy Fit.

Five Minutes -- that's it --
make them count.

Ready?

GO!

Ok, time's up.

Excuse me,

I said,

"TIME IS UP!"

The buzzer buzzed,

the bell rang --

Snap out of it!

And now hear this:

ideas have no owners
[not yours, not mine, not his, not her's]

because

ideas are limitless;

ideas take dimension, expand,
according to the individual expressing them;

ideas are energy forms drawing to them

every person perfect to articulate

one of their nuances.

Ideas need each of us,

want each of us,

await each of us,

and

expect each of us

to bring

our unique angle,

our particular experience,

our specific imagination,

our hope,

our hesitancy,

our intellect,

our bravery,

our fear,

OUR EFFORT

to continue

the full song
of
each & every idea.

What seems like 'your' idea

is really someone else's voice

participating in that idea's

potential harmony;
you recognize the song
because
you are meant to be part of it.

What is missing is

your voice amid

that Idea's Chorus.

NOW

Wipe your eyes.

Blow your nose.

Pick your lip up.

Wash your mouth out if

you think it'll help,

and
get
busy

sounding your voice.

Tuesday Technique'N: Make Art with a Child

2010-02-15T20:41:00.000-08:00

A Child will Teach You ...

[Journal Pages by Ciera, used by permission,

with approval of Picnik collage play by me]

Saturday Evening

Sunday Afternoon-into-Evening

IT'S ART JOURNALING TIME!!

A round wooden table.

My Love, Ciera, in one chair;

me across from her in another.

A pile of scrap paper in the middle,

a stack of old magazines to one side,

rulers for ripping,

glue sticks,

a pair of scissors each,

& a huge cardboard box

filled with

plastic sleeves of

color-sorted papers.

A child will teach you,

immediately,

thoroughly,

how to take the

'precious'

OUT of your view of your materials.

Ciera roots & rummages

through

papers & magazines

without

hesitation or delicacy,

unceremoniously stuffing rejects back into

some case or other,

crumpling the remains of a sheet into a ball

before blinking, asking,

'Oh, did you want to save the rest?'

Forget organization,

color coordination,

crease-free or

cost --

JUST FIND WHAT YOU LIKE

USE IT!!

WHY ELSE DO YOU HAVE IT?!

A child will teach you

OWN

each page.

No 20 minute debate over

image or placement.

No acid indigestion

over color combinations.

No fainting spells

over corners not quite glued down.

Ciera creates 3 pages to every 1 of mine.

She likes the dress but not the face

on a woman?

Off comes the head,

& she glues down one she likes better.

Only once, in the 3 years

since Ciera and I have been

journaling together,

has she ever asked me about

a color combination

and that was last night:

'do black & pink look good together?'

Usually when she asks me a

'do you like it' or

'do you think I should ________?'

kind of question,

I'll say, 'Try it & let's see.'

But this time I had an emphatic opinion

& shared it:

"YES!"

If a corner lifts up,

Ciera either rips it off or

applies glue stick &

SHMOOSHES

[with both hands, mind you]

until satisfied.

A child will teach you

editing,

simplicity,

uncomplicated

'putting it out there'.

2 photos of something you want

accompanied by heart stickers

is all the embellishment

a wish page needs.

Flower images

a hand drawn self-portrait

with the words

Peace & Love

make a powerful mission statement.

A child will teach you

that less is NOT less,

even if the page appears

deceptively streamlined.

Ciera creates with purpose.

If asked

(& I always do)

she relates the story of each page

articulately & precisely,

& I assure you,

she isn't making it up as she goes along.

A child will teach you

that

ANYTHING

can be connected,

sensibly,

logically

to anything else.

Wizards & Pancakes?

Ciera seemed surprised

I didn't 'get' it.

She was in the mood for pancakes;

wizards could make it happen.

You see?

A child will teach you

that using what you love,

from any area of your life,

always makes a great page:

blue masking tape

(for taping blankets to chairs for forts),

Zebra tape

(because Zebras are her 'best' animal),

& pink paper stripes

(pink being, after all, her signature color)

bring all her favorite things

into brilliant & happy focus.

AND

a child will teach you

to sing your own praises,

to proudly show

everyone in the room each page

as you create it,

to sit back down,

to take a moment to

fondly pat & smooth the page

with your palms

before turning to a clean sheet.

A child will teach you ....

* * * * *

I love you, Ciera.

Cruisin' On a Sultry Afternoon ...

2010-02-13T20:03:00.000-08:00

Vistancia Annual Classic Car Show

'round about 2 p.m.
on a blue-skied Saturday ...

moseying amid
the Mustangs & Bel-Air's,

the Triumphs,
the Model A's, the

Roadsters & Hot Rods,

Toni saw this:

1966 Ford Fairlane 500 XL

swoon ...

drool ...

... fervently wish that

I had on a slinky black dress,

stiletto pumps

(& a neon green boa)

so I could drape myself over

that sassy red upholstery,

& call her mine.

Yea .........

Yea .....

Uh,

where was I?

Oh yes!

This cool, fresh, SWEET set o'wheels

belongs to

Mr. Mike Kautz

his constant canine companion,

a Westie named Coda.

Ms. Fairlane's last address

was Farmington, New Mexico,

where she had been

gently driven,

tenderly tended,

with

no improvements made

to her

original interior or motor,

just a replacement

the tan top

(to be black, at some point in the future).

All her original interior was red.

Since coming to live with

Mike & Coda,

black has replaced red

on many of the interior door finishes

the original Ford 289 engine

['the bread & butter engine of

all Ford cars of the 50s & 60s']

chrome-blinged,

in order to compliment

a paint job restoring

Ms. Fairlane

to a sparkling version

of her original

"Wimbledon White."

In the very near future,

the upholstery stripes on each side

of the seats will go black

keeping the center ripe red,

and her bumpers will also

undergo their own version

of a chrome bling spit-shine.

Mike has so far done

the majority of the work

himself,

but intends to take advantage of

the restorers

he meets at

(or already knows from)

the numerous Valley car shows

where he drives Ms. Fairlane

to allow her to

preen & present her loveliness.

These voices of experience

provide Mike with

precise research,

insights born of hands-on years

spent restoring vehicles,

& the best contacts --

critical in assuring that

Ms. Fairlane visits only the best

for her upholstery make-over.

But seriously,

is Coda not the best bling

a Fairlane could ask for?

Questions, anyone???

Mike Kautz can be reached at nasotango@juno.com

but hear this:

Ms. Fairlane is emphatically

not

for sale.

She is,

however,

available,

free of charge,

for green-boa'd daydreams!

My thanks to Mike & Coda!

* * * * * * * * * *

For local Phoenix-Metro area

readers and car show enthusiasts:

The Norterra Car Show

is held

the second Friday of every month

6 - 9 p.m.

I-17 & Happy Valley Road

* * * * * * * * * *

"Entre el Cielo y la Tierra" - Guest Artist Gennaro García

2010-02-11T19:39:00.000-08:00

"Entre el Cielo y la Tierra"

"Between heaven and earth"

"Painting is addictive and therapeutic.

It is the best way to communicate everything --

the way I feel, the way I think, and what I love.

Oils, acrylics, monoprints, hand carved wood,

plaster techniques learned in Italy, and

a color palette created from a childhood in Mexico.

These are some of the tools that bring to life

a fascination with

old world and religious iconic images."

Gennaro García

This exhibit title expresses

Gennaro's desire to take

two disparate sensations, expectations,

and join them:

heaven, earth, & the space between.

Unexpected differences;

unexpected similarities.

Loneliness.

The space behind, & to the side of,

the Archangel

(a frequent subject of Gennaro's painting)

illustrates both the specific sense of loneliness,

and

also the idea of A Single Emotion.

Over a decade ago,

Gennaro's mother 'stole'

one of his original paintings,

a Madonna,

which she recently gave back to him.

He's returned to the material source

where he began,

iconic religious themes.

He gathers inspiration wherever he travels,

and he's traveled extensively:

Spain, South America, Africa, Italy,

to name a few of his destinations.

It was a Beautiful Woman who led

Gennaro to paint abstracts.

She loved them, &

he wanted to win her heart.

Traveling with His Beauty to New York in 2004,

& after carrying around

an engagement ring

in his pocket for five days,

they visited the Basilica ...

he knew this was the day!

But to Gennaro's astonishment,

a song from his childhood

lifted within the cathedral arches,

a song sung in Spanish --

& he felt such familiarity with the

art inside the church,

the architecture itself,

this music from his youth!

For him,

everything focused and disappeared

concurrently.

He knew what he now wanted to paint.

Research began immediately.

[I remain uncertain if the proposal

actually did take place that day,

but his Beauty IS now Gennaro's wife!]

The arrival of their daughter

also deeply influences his painting.

The tree of life,

above,

is a celebration of her birth.

The myriad birds

symbolize

the male presence,

Gennaro.

Lush & brilliantly colored

lotus flowers

represent the female presence,

Gennaro's Beauty.

And the sheer abundance of flowers

indicates the birth of a girl,

Frida Sophia.

And yes,

Gennaro confirmed that,

at 12 weeks,

she is already

in possession of an easel!

Three weeks ago,

when I first personally met Gennaro at the

Phoenix Art Museum Open Paint,

he had just started this canvas.

I noticed then a photograph taped to the easel,

above the canvas.

This is how he always works,

and he has difficulty choosing from among

his hundreds of photographs.

The plastering/texture technique so beautifully

rendered here is the one he

learned in Italy.

The subject is a young lady Gennaro

considers as a daughter.

Again,

notice his technique of

leaving her surrounded

by space.

My comment to him was

that I felt myself drawn in,

pulled nearer,

and ultimately completely

engaged by her eyes.

Speaking of Eyes:

here is my favorite from the Exhibit.

Gennaro met this woman in

North Africa,

and she spoke perfect Spanish.

Again,

he experienced a paradox --

what is 'expected' in/from Africa

versus what it's possible to discover.

In rendering portraits,

his main concern is the quality of the eyes.

Hers halted me.

Found me.

Held me.

And followed me,

wherever I moved.

But I didn't want to move

from her gaze.

And I kept returning.

Because he began in a place

where it was necessary to use

everything

until it couldn't be used anymore,

Gennaro still uses his paintbrushes

until they're nubs.

He considers this to be his only

'ritual',

except ...

He HAS to listen to music!!!

I asked;

I told him it was

the ONLY question

I wanted to ask for myself.

He said yes;

I grinned & grinned;

then we traded recommendations.

His: Chambao

Mine: Jesse Cook

Both: Sade's new one, Soldier of Love

We also bonded

over our mutual admiration of

Anthony Bourdain.

Gennaro is a Foodie to the Max --

ultimate dream?

A restaurant gallery!

I volunteered to chop onion.

Finally,

I asked Gennaro if

he has any advice for

beginning artists,

shy artists,

artists who think they make bad art.

"I grew up under the shadow

of my older brother,

who is an incredible artist,

and I felt it all,

that I'd never be 'that good',

hearing that voice in my head saying

'You'll never be able to paint.'

But I painted anyway,

and the voice disappeared.

Art has to be expressed,

and the expression dissolves the doubt,

silences the voice.

And, also,

I've come to love

'the perfection in the imperfection.' "

The Artist,

with my favorite of his paintings.

I have no sufficient words to thank Gennaro,

for his generosity of time & attention,

for being so engaging,

sharing his stories both

personal & creative,

for inviting me to this meeting

in the first place.

Gracias por todo, Gennaro!

Calvin Charles Gallery

4201 North Marshall Way, Scottsdale, AZ

Exhibit runs through March 8, 2010

Partial Proceeds to benefit Xico, Inc.

Gennaro García

Official Website: ArteGennaro

Blog: Arte+Gennaro

Facebook: ARTEGENNARO

Competition or Collaboration: The Saga Continues

2010-02-10T05:43:00.000-08:00

collaborate: to work jointly with others
competition: 1) rivalry; 2) a contest between rivals

Last week, I wrote about a desire to see perspective return to the OVERALL practice of journaling, be it art/visual or written in form. In closing that post, I espoused my personal belief that 'fundamentally, ideally, there is no place for competition between art genres.' That remains my story, and I stick to it; however, I received several juicy comments in response, and they've inspired me to quantify, flesh out, my statement.

But first, Sam asked, 'I'm just wondering what happened to inspire this [last week's] piece.'    One year of increasingly backlogged frustration with the growing cult-esque fascination with art journaling, and in particular, art journaling to the exclusion of THE WORDS! THE WRITTEN JOURNALING! That, and a hideous, green-monster-driven rant upon seeing an artist published, an artist who 'began' at the same time I did, an artist who is perpetuating all the art journal trends by which I'm saturated and with which I'm beyond impatient.  I had a bonafide conniption fit. I still haven't worked my way through it all, though I've calmed enough to feel a large degree of shame at my arrogance, my wholesale condemnation & my major trench-mouthed tirade sprayed not only in this artist's direction but also at the publishers for being (in my esteemed opinion) so damned predictable, so commercial, and so safe.

ACK! BEYOTCH WARNING! ART JOURNAL SNOB ALERT!! -- GET THE HOOK!

Let's move right along, please, to Beth's comments, like a balm, ' ... and competition ... blech ... I hated high school because of competition and wish that word would just explode and go away.' Yes, and yes, and it may be this was also the birthplace of my repugnance for the word. I associate "competition" with locker room posturing, jock itch, toe jam, an entire MINE IS BIGGER THAN YOURS mentality. Whatever our gifts or ability levels, isn't it possible to invoke the best -- in ourselves? in others? -- minus snide asides, bully tactics and that chorus of 'Neener! Neener!'? Another's piece, poem, or presence can be full-throttle instruction on its own, without any smearing of it in my face, without any elevating of it over my own efforts. When it comes to 'better', all artists have An Eye that assesses, distinguishes, and absorbs in growing awareness as applicable to their own endeavors.   Creatively speaking, I personally have no 'rivals', or at least I fervently aspire to none. I'm proud of that even though I enact it so imperfectly.

Marilyn, strong and confident as she is, writes: 'Each to their own. I couldn't exist without competition and I'm happy to be my own if need be!' I imagine Marilyn has connotations very different from my own relative to the word 'competition'. Groovy! I can learn from that, too. It seems to me, still, that she and I are on the same page. The objective, ultimately, is SELF-improvement, right? Through exposure to other work, ideas, techniques, experience, we individually can draw incrementally closer to effecting our personal vision. I do, most definitely, "compete" with myself, but it's more honest to name it collaboration -- unless I'm dueling with my own critic, pushy beastie that it is. Call it competition or call it collaboration, but the compelling difference between 'you suck' and 'hey, you really caught that aspect well' is night and day. One diminishes, one nourishes -- be it from within or without. Constructive criticism, suggestion, enlightenment? Bring it. But condescend to me and I'll deliver a resounding, "Bite me!" Fangs and pirate vocabulary free of charge, true story.

Astute & fearless Vivian queries: ' I don't know what is meant by "no place for competition among art genres.'' There is certainly room for discussion, criticism, evaluation: is that competition?' That's what I'm talking about! (Semantics -- bother!) Competition? OK - in that form. Collaboration? Sure. I want it, like that. But I think motive as a variable isn't an unreasonable measuring quantifier here. WHY am I discussing? Criticizing? Evaluating? To help someone improve? Or to flex what I may see as my own superiority? I mean, eesh, blimey, and unlimited shite: do I want to embody someone's (or my own) inner critic? NOT!   Some degree of introspection, a search for possible ulterior motive, is a necessary act before I open my yap. As I earlier described, I'm not so evolved or peaced-out that I'm incapable of the dark side -- I give GOOD hissy fits! Point is: they go undelivered! In truth, I've generally found a more mindful, productive practice in waiting to be asked my opinion. Eliminates the potential for any toxins to slip by me; propagates equilibrium and creative generosity all around.

Calm and contemplative Janet offers: 'I have a quote (I forgot to write down the author): "In a world of individuals, comparison makes no sense at all."' For me, comparison is the most insidious negative connotation I have to competition. Here I am, dammit: not you, not her, not that bloke over yonder. Took me decades to learn the truth of my individuality, the truth of me, and to accept/embrace that, whether I make crap art or not. The unique qualities of you, or her, or that bloke over yonder colorize me like a fresh rain or a pure wash of gleaming light. My "self" absorbs what is presently needed, like vitamins, an injection of creative smack, an answered prayer perfectly timed and delivered. No matter what, though, the influence of others flows through my filters, utilized by me to express ME. That eventuality is a given -- I can't sustain the "wearing" of any other, the costume of comparison and trying to measure up. That price is just way too high - I'm not willing to fork it over anymore.

The tides and currents to be found intermingling with other artists and artistic genres are my inspiration forward (as Marilyn suggests), my momentum for improvement, my fuel for the journey toward perfection. But doing my best as I take each step, alone and alongside others, is how I experience perfection in the now. So you say competition (to-MAY-toe) and I say collaboration (to-mah-toe) ... so long as we're still talking and not calling the whole thing off!

Tuesday Technique'N: Freedom Wall

2010-02-09T05:53:00.000-08:00

I've been wanting to work big.

I've been wanting to work standing up.

I've been wanting to experiment with

tools

products

techniques

materials

ideas.

I've been wanting to unleash!

And there's this blank wall in my studio, see ...

Hideous.

Definitely underutilized.

Makeover required!

Plastic painter's tarp, $2.99.

Push pins - pack of 100, $1.19 at WalMart!

Creation of Freedom Wall?

PRICELESS!

My Studio Inspector, inspecting.

Up to code except

a) I've reduced her places to perch by one

(top of filing cabinet covered)

= violation big!

and

b) How is she to mosey across

or plunk her "I'm Here" heinie down

for a nap in the middle of projects

if they're suspended mid-air?

= violation extreme!

Permit Pending.

99-cent store pack of poster board.

Push pins, continued.

The photos,

above, feel like

Kansas before the Tornado,

don't they?

Blah, bland, boring!

WE NEED COLOR, ~~TOTO~~! er, Zoe!

Gesso,

leftover paints from

cheezo acrylic paint bottles,

one dash of orange sherbet fabric paint,

brushes,

foamies.

PLAY TIME!

A little gesso here,

scrub-a-paint-dub there,

dash, dip, impress foamies.

Whatever I felt like, I did.

Just setting the base, here,

not committing to anything!

But this Detail?

I'm committed to that.

Whenever I entered my studio over the weekend,

I cupped chin in hand,

I pondered,

I consulted with my Studio Inspector,

and I added something.

Or some THINGS.

Detail.

Fun rotation of

papers, products, &

tools.

Truly an opportunity

to pull everything out

& experiment!!

Stencils, tissue paper,

silhouettes,

paint.

Detail.

Both photos are mine

(the pottery, the statues).

Postage stamps from my collection.

Rubber stamps.

Stencils.

Paper scrap.

A favorite silhouette.

More products to play with.

Blurry detail --

but see packing tape photo transfer?

Monk in orange robes,

carrying an umbrella?

& white oil pastel to

highlight some of the circles.

Yummy.

Another detail.

Zoe said she feels like

she got trapped inside a lava lamp,

looking at this one.

Furry wench.

The point is:

PLAY

The point is:

EXPERIMENT

The point is:

USE STUFF YOU'VE BEEN AFRAID OF.

The point is:

USE STUFF YOU'VE BEEN COLLECTING,

bits, pieces, odds, ends.

The point is:

BE FREE!

It IS a freedom wall, after all.

Reminder:

if you hate something,

a corner,

a color combination,

a runaway drip,

you can gesso, color,

paint, paper over it

and start again.

In the words of

My Faithful Studio Inspector:

"The point is:

RELAX!"

Testing - 1-2-3

2010-02-08T14:16:00.000-08:00

In which Toni learns the basics of

making a photo collage.

Carry on!

Purity

2010-02-08T10:05:00.000-08:00

My Love, Ciera

3, maybe 4? years ago ...

Patio Open Paint

This (how she looks here)

HOW

FEEL

when I work in my studio.

You?

Gallery Hunt

2010-02-06T08:56:00.000-08:00

This coming Thursday,

I've been invited to interview a local artist

prior to his gallery opening that evening.

Can you say nervous?

NERVOUS.

Because I'm geographically impaired,

I took off at seven this morning to

hunt down the location of the gallery,

so I wouldn't have that to think about on Thursday.

Good thing I did ...

does anyone else have trouble with

directions from MapQuest?

I'm talking SERIOUS SHITE.

Directions said 'south' of the main street,

when in fact the gallery is NORTH of the main street.

Big difference,

particularly for the geographically impaired.

True story.

Anyway,

while I was on the 'south' side,

not finding said gallery,

I decided to park and mosey,

hunt on foot,

and shoot pictures as I went.

Nnnnnnice, as it turns out.

I haven't gone gallivanting

with my Daddy-O Cam

in too long!

Blooms in baskets hung on every street lamp.

My first encounter with a shedding cactus.

Painting, shot through a shop window.

Fierce doesn't quite capture it.

I love the texture of the spines!

A postcard, with a wee bit o'cropping.

My favorite shot today, above.

I think Toni wants to photograph women.

Toro! Toro!

(This one is a hottie, too,

a sculpture of metal & wood.)

One of the most spectacular words ever invented!

Why does her paunch look like art,

whereas mine looks like _________?!

The sky was much more blue than this...

Her face makes me want to ask her a deep question.

Experiment in lines.

Heh heh. Got THAT right!

The owner of this hand is a warrior woman.

But you knew that.

Overflow. I love the hands on sculptures.

Yes,

Toni definitely wants to

photograph women.

Sigh ... her eyes feel full of echoes.

Cupid mouth.

Thank you

for joining me!

Of E.B., Natalie, and Me or Is That, I? - Guest Artist Holly Dietor

2010-02-05T05:36:00.000-08:00

Of E.B., Natalie and Me, Or Is That, I?
[Holly Dietor]

Grab a beverage of choice and sit with me a spell. Imagine that we're in a late afternoon sunlit classroom. A classroom from our past. One with a huge blackboard, or maybe yours is green, stretching across the front. An alphabet chart creeps over top of that showing the correct form and direction to pen each letter in our lexicon.

Smell the chalk dust. Smell the books on our library shelves. Which one is your favorite? Examine the few green plants that march on the top near the windows. The smell of wax on the furniture. Then there's the floor. Look at it: is it carpeted? Or are we sitting in a classroom with one of those odd geometric patterns of linoleum or tile?

Okay, got it? Are you sitting in a classroom again? Great. So now, let's pretend that I'm standing at the chalkboard. While I talk with you, I push the long piece of chalk back and forth in my hand. I walk about a bit. We're talking about the craft of writing.

I ask, "Who likes writing?" Only two hands raise. Then I ask, "Okay, well, who really hates writing?" Most, including me, raise our hands. When you see my hand up, some of you start to chuckle.

"I know, it's crazy, isn't it? Here I am talking to you about writing and I just admitted I hate it. But, even though I'm very good at it, it doesn't mean that I like the process of it. The difference between you and me is that I push myself past my natural resistance and just write. I simply write."

You sit there considering that idea. Then I share, "Look, a major reason you hate writing is what happened to you while sitting in class. Let me give you an example." I turn and write in big letters, "The sky is blue."

Turning back, I ask, "Can you all read that sentence?" All heads nod in the affirmative. Next I ask, "Can you understand it?" Again, complete agreement. Finally, I ask, "Can you all get a very clear picture in your mind when you read it?" I watch as eyes shift focus to the internal process of conjuring a blue sky and I see heads nod, "yes".

"Okay," I continue. "Now here's where you first started hating to write. Because I promise you that when you wrote that perfectly clear, wonderful sentence in your composition, you got less than a good grade. Your teacher, who was trying to teach you to expand your vocabulary, may have written, 'Not good enough! What color blue is it? What does it look like? You didn't paint a clear picture!' C+ ... And you so wanted an A.

From that point after, instead of writing clear, natural sentences to express yourself, you went for things like this: "The stunning azure expanse rolled onward over my head in varying shades making my world a clear place of unimaginable beauty." And your teacher swooned because she had taught you to finally use vocabulary and paint with words. "A+! I am so proud!"

And that, my friends, is how you learned to hate writing, because it became artificial and contrived and just too much effort to always attempt to be crafty instead of being clear and straight forward. Writing became a form of unnatural communication. So, yeah, thank your composition teacher for turning you from a natural writer into an individual who will do anything to avoid it.

And then there are all the rules. Punctuation, syntax, tense .... crap! Who can keep all the rules straight? I certainly can't. Unless you're a Grammarian, most of us can't or even care to! Oh, no, I just ended that sentence in a preposition, didn't I? Hide me; the Grammar Police are on their way.

Who needs all that pressure? No wonder you think you don't like to write. So let me liberate you; if you truly don't like to write - don't. However, that's almost never the case. For most, it isn't that we don't like to write; it's really about feeling not-good-enough. Not worthy. Your inner child, who has lots of imagination and ability to spin a tale, has been relentlessly bashed by your inner-critic. The story telling child has learned to sit down and shut up rather than be constantly picked at.

What a shame.

As a Public Relations & Copy Writing teacher, I was often struck by the irony that I was teaching others about the craft I resisted all my life. As long as I can remember, my father said, "Holly, you're supposed to be a writer, a storyteller." And I'd think, "No way! So not exciting." Yet, in my professional life, I was a writer in publications and magazines, an editor; and again I was struck, "How am I being paid to do this when I really don't like it and I'm not even certain I'm any good at it?"

Let me tell you a secret: when I was uncertain of my worth as a writer it was because, in my mind, the only Real Writers were those who wrote books -- a novel, a biography, a history. Yeah, only book writers, or journalists, or columnists were true writers. Then, one day it occurred to me that I was being paid to write. My stuff was being published in our publications. People were reading it and responding to it. In the classroom, I was instructing others how to debunk the process and break through their resistance. Holy crap, I am a writer after all!

I am absolutely no different than you. Can you do it, too? Yes. You can. You should. Who makes you thrill when you read their work? Do you know why you respond to their particular voice? Have you analyzed it? Could you copy that style? For me, it's E.B. White. The guy who wrote Charlotte's Web, Stuart Little, and Trumpet of the Swan wasn't well received by the children's literature set at first. Can you imagine that? Even the most brilliant can be met with cool reserve.

I didn't read his children's classics until I was an adult. Nope, for me it was the essays that White wrote for The New Yorker Magazine. He is, also, the voice behind The Elements of Style, which in my opinion is the best text for learning the nuts and bolts of writing.

White had a flow and easy way with words that makes me feel as though I am sitting and talking with him instead of reading lines and squiggles on a page. He always paints a clear picture. He evokes emotion without playing on my emotions. I find myself often nodding, "Exactly," and "That's absolutely correct; I wish I had thought to say it that way! It's brilliant in its simplicity."

To be a good writer, you must be a keen observer of the Human condition as well as be willing to share your humanity with others. E.B. White taught me that no topic is boring so long as it is of genuine interest enough to be written. No Human Being is without a story, but so few are asked to share it. Color is where you find it. Any experience well penned can be worthy of reading.

Writing doesn't need to be forced or contrived. And, if you tell a story in a straightforward manner, the truth rings out. By avoiding the maudlin, you won't have the embarrassment of reading your work years later and cringing at the melodrama. You'll never whisper with your face growing red and a hand over your eyes, "Gawd, what was I thinking when I wrote that tripe?" If you want an example, go back and read some of your diary from when you were a teenager ... you'll know exactly what I mean!

Twenty years ago, Natalie Goldberg came along and when I read her now-classic Writing Down the Bones, I knew that if I was ever asked to attempt to teach others, it would be the text, because she frees one from the tyranny of the classroom and gives hope that one can write. But it all starts with putting a pen to paper, or fingers on a key board. If you want to write, you have to pick up the pen.

After lots of years, I've become comfortable with my talent and see it as my particular gift. I stopped hoping to be gifted in other areas in lieu of being a writer. I always wanted to be an artist, but it's not my path. I wanted to be a musician, but I don't have what it takes to become one. I wanted to be a singer, and although I have a pleasant voice, I'm not special. I wanted to be a photographer, but that's not my gift either. I am somewhat good at any of those things, but I am GIFTED with words and expressing myself with them.

You may not be as gifted with the writing muse but she shuns no one who wishes to be her voice! I promise that you can and should express yourself in the written format. Do it for yourself, if for no other reason than to leave a permanent record of your footprint in this ephemeral lifetime.

So with that, let me give you Holly's rules for writing:

> Always write in present tense. When we write, we have a tendency to write as though we're recording what has already happened, past tense. However, that makes us witnesses to events instead of participating in the story as it unfolds. Past tense writing is passive; present tense writing has more energy because it is active.

>Write for the ear whenever possible. Write the way we speak unless, of course, you're writing a textbook or some formal piece. Even then, bend the rules so the tone is more user-friendly. Don't ever use shall/shall not unless God has asked you to expand The Ten Commandments on His behalf.

> Learn the rules of grammar, but don't live and die by them. You have to know the rules and know when you need to break them. Don't hesitate to break them if it's the best way to tell the tale. Oh, and stop using your lack of familiarity with them as the excuse for why you don't write.

> Do not pepper your work with exclamations. Only three exclamation marks in any story, please. If everything is emphatic, which is the reason for an exclamation mark, then nothing is emphatic.

> Write in straightforward, clear, declarative sentences. Don't try to impress me with your vocabulary. If the sky is blue, tell me that, allowing me to see the blue sky with which I'm most familiar. Don't force me to see you as Webster's dictionary instead of a storyteller.

> Grammar and language are living entities. That means they can be changed and the rules can be modified.

> You can write or you can edit; you CANNOT do them simultaneously. Different parts of your brain are engaged in those processes. When you write, you are creating. When you edit, you are refining and that takes a different skill. So write until you're done. THEN edit.

> Let your writing get cold. Meaning: write and then don't look at it again until 24 hours or longer have passed. Why? Your eyes and brain will see the words as new and find the errors or the places that need modification. So learn to use the 24-Hour Rule.

> Do not write to make me feel. That's not your job. Your job is to tell me the tale in such a pure, clean, clear, true way from your perspective that I have no choice but to relate or share your experience. Take me along with you in the telling and I promise, if you do, I will feel. And you will be a success.

> Final Rule ... just write. Write. Write. Write for yourself and don't worry about who might be reading it. When we do something from a place of love, the ears that need to hear the love will be drawn to it.

And with that, class dismissed. Go write now!

Namaste 'Til Next Time,
Holly

To enjoy more of Holly's thoughts, essays, humor and wisdom,
visit her blog at Your Mother Knows But Won't Tell You

THANK YOU, HOLLY!

Art/Visual and Written Journals: Competitors? Or Collaborators?

2010-02-03T06:13:00.000-08:00

What a renaissance the Art Journal has seen in the recent few years! No longer only the private (& possibly bored) sketches of suppressed Victorian women, or the deliberate majestical sketchbooks of Leonardo da Vinci genius types -- we now have blog, website, on-line class and workshop access to such as Danny Gregory, Julie Prichard, Kelly Kilmer and Juliana Coles. These artists teach everything from sketching as daily practice to background preparation via paint or collage techniques to deep self-exploration through the combination of words, visual imagery and specific ephemera.

Four years ago, after thirty years of diligent and mostly happy written journaling, I reached a point of stagnation, a sense of severe statis, in my writing. A work associate and friend suggested rubber stamps as a first step to incorporating the visual aspect I sought in my journals. From there, I launched -- to paint, collaging, mixed media canvases, a delightful first attempt at sewing (a Picasso-esque cat for my brother), assemblage, and a comically entertaining (but definitely failed) foray into soldering. I participated in swaps, round robins, challenges. I crafted ATC's, altered books and swimming pool filters, created pieces or canvases prompted by an inspiration photo or object, and I began to visually embellish all my written journal pages. Backgrounds abounded, complete with tags, pockets, photos, ephemera, brads, ribbons, rub-ons and security envelope parts. I also began a visual journal during this time.

I continued, though, to maintain my written journal, and discovered myself feeling EXASPERATED by the intrusion of the visual elements. My journaling took on all the fluidity of a football game -- start, stop, whistle, huddle, FLAG! punt, tackle, stop, time out! My years'-long favorite cheezo Bic pen didn't take to gesso or acrylic paint. My thoughtflow retreated, frustrated and interrupted by the cramped spaces of tags and inserts, or small clear areas available for writing. Actual writing. Because for me, it was and remains ALL ABOUT THE WORDS. The message, feeling or theme of my visual backgrounds rarely connected in any way to the current thoughts in my mind, and that jarred me. The space taken up by stuff left my pen hand reluctant and jittery. So -- I studied the many articles and blog posts relevant to art journaling, and shook my head over and again. A single word? Uh -- not. A phrase or quote? Shucks, those are merely my jump-off points, never summarizing my thoughts compactly, succinctly. Both my written and visual journaling tapered off, stuttering, spluttering, then screeched (literally) to a standstill.

Checkmate.

What was I feeling? From experience over the last four years, I understood profoundly the value of the visual journal in unearthing the moist, the blunt, the raw, the hesitant, the very ENTRAILS my pen tended to gloss over or downright avoid. I still wanted to get beyond my 'habits' of writing, out of my own almost 'automatic' Pen Head. And the overlap (written, visual) happens subconsciously, organically, anyway -- there is no stopping the influence of one on the other. It really is true that sometimes a color, an image, can immediately, perfectly express what no amount of writing has yet been able to grasp. And then, and always, after working or playing in my visual art journal, when I returned to the writing, my pen moved without gravity, with an altered, informed, freed continuity and awareness, full of (YES!) surprises and revelations.

I remembered distinctly that neither would I be anywhere without the uncountable books I've ingested, the reams of found correspondence, travel journals, the diaries and personal writings of the past that made their way to me. Jean Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir, Teresa of Avila, Benjamin Franklin, May Sarton, the pioneer women who recorded their lives in small bound books and neat, alert penmanship, to name a few. And then there are my two abiding favorites, more influential than any others: The Diary of Frida Kahlo, and The Diaries of Anais Nin. WRITING IS AN ART FORM! How deeply within you did that statement resound? Art journals are, for the "now", glorified, extolled, held aloft to the near exclusion of any other art form. I feel, in turns, angered by and resistant to that, despite my intellectual ability to recognize a trend as a trend when I see one. It can feel like a devaluing of written journaling, all this art journal trumpeting. For those of us who are mainly, deliberately (and also helplessly) written journalers, writers, it also delivers a thrust into further isolation -- because writing simply does not allow the immediate, almost instant gratification effected by the visual arts. There is no publication anywhere devoted to written journaling that I've been able to unearth. I see the impact of art journaling (visual! visual! visual!) even on my blog, where I receive heightened response to "technique" posts, and writing prompts are met with silence. Even a strictly written post, such as this, absent of visual accompaniment (filler?) tends to be scanned then passed over. We have slowly been conditioned to seek the RIGHT NOW, the LESS WORK, of visual art, over the effort required to allow writing to paint, sculpt, weave, and sing to and for us.

For me, a visual journal is just one among the many tools I utilize to impact, break open, expose and hone my written voice. The visual journal isn't something to suppress, supplant, or compete with my written expression. It hasn't lesser or greater value. My fervent wish is that we soon regain our perspective, a retreat from the art journal genuflecting currently en vogue. My fervent wish is also for writers to hold steadfast, and minus doubt. A Bic pen on a sheet of unembellished paper is every ounce as potent, as magical, as paint, ephemera, and photographs. If you are, as I am, A WRITER, it's critical to remember we stand aside visual artists as PEERS, rather than subordinates. Many who are visual artists are so because they can't write (or anyway believe that to be true). If we writers feel bouts of visual-art-envy, we can remind ourselves that perhaps visual artists experience envy over our ease with a pen, words, creativity and expression on a page.

And, if you've noticed, most art/visual journalers ultimately incorporate some form of the written word. Fundamentally, and ideally, there is no place for competition among art genres. It's counterproductive and, I'm certain, not at all what any of us intend. We all need each other and mainly seem to realize this. We all benefit from our diversity, from the stimulation one medium provides another. Let's shake hands, call it an equal exchange, then return each to our studios, inspired by and INDIVIDUAL in our talents.

Tuesday Technique'N: Altering Postcards with Guest Artist Lee Kreklewetz

2010-02-02T09:42:00.000-08:00

Altering Postcards

[Text & Photos by Lee Kreklewetz]

Lee Kreklewetz

Is a self-taught mixed media artist

Who loves to paint, sketch and alter anything!

You can visit her blog at

http://leekre.blogspot.com/

Supplies:

Watercolor paint, acrylics, markers, pan pastels, pencil,

You can basically use anything you want on this project.

All I used was a pencil, markers, and one pan pastel.

Now let's get started:

Original Picture Postcard

Two ways you can do this:

work on the original postcard,

do a photo transfer.

I chose to do a photo transfer,

only because

I don’t have that postcard anymore.

Now you can see

that the photo transfer was not great--

it never is for me.

So all I did was take my pencil and outline it.

So to see where I am going,

I decided to paint in the sky.

I used pan pastels

But you could use anything,

blue markers, watercolor crayons, anything.

I decided that I did not want

to make them look

the same as the postcard.

So I determined that one needed a blouse,

one needed a full swimsuit,

and I added different straps to the other one.

I started with my markers and just

went with it.

Here is a hint:

all the white you see in this picture is

a white out (correction) pen.

I use them all the time --

they give me the colour I want.

I started to colour in the sand and

really was not happy with it.

Don’t get upset

if you make a mistake --

just change it up and that’s what I did.

As you can see,

the sand is still not looking right,

but don’t worry about it.

I went right on painting the flesh tones

and finishing up and then it came to me.

If they

were sitting on the beach.

they would be sitting on beach towels!

And you know what?

I think those beach towels

added what was missing .

See it looks different from the

original picture.

and it’s your art.

One tip:

if you are going to work

directly on the picture,

I would rough it up a bit with sandpaper,

so its not smooth.

If you try this technique,

I would love to see it!

Drop me a line at my blog

and I will come over and have a look.

* * * * * * * * * *

THANK YOU, LEE!!!

Interlude

2010-02-02T08:34:00.000-08:00

I have a wonderful technique post

lined up for you,

but am trying to reach my

guest artist about some of the visuals.

In the meantime,

imagine Norah Jones crooning in your ear,

a nice mug of something hot and decadent,

and take a gander at

my own attempt experimenting with

last week's

Pam Tucker/CitraSolv technique!

I took a marbleizing tool and pressed/swirled

on the back of these two

as they 'cooked'.

Do you see the face in the upper left? I LOVE THAT!

Tightrope Walker.

More with the marbleizing tool.

This is a page from

Vogue

magazine.

It didn't merge with the page

I'd stuck onto it,

but when I wiped the goo off,

I got this.

The Old Surgery

2010-02-01T06:27:00.000-08:00

Lovely,

this building,

isn't it?

It's an old 'surgery' in Sheffield, England,

photo taken by a

relative-of-my-heart,

M.B. "Mick" Kent.

Mick is a photographer.

Mick is also a painter/artist.

Mick sent me the above,

and it took me four days

to recover from my

S W O O N.

True story.

The doctors who resided in

The Old Surgery

are moving to new digs.

WHY?

I only hope this building

doesn't get

demolished

or some other ridiculous thing,

like turned into a

travel agency or

such nonsense.

Mick is,

as well,

a cancer survivor.

He is raising funds for

Cavendish Cancer Care

in Sheffield.

* * * * *

I've lost my grandmother to uterine cancer,

my best friend to breast cancer,

a work associate

[who was also the sole reason I

became involved in mixed media art]

to pancreatic cancer...

and someone

close to me is a

breast cancer survivor.

I think almost all of us

can say we have had cancer

touch our lives,

either personally or through loved ones.

The only cause

I contribute

my measly funds to

is breast cancer.

* * * * *

If you'd like to contribute

to Mick's cause,

please contact me for his email address.

And I'd like to ask you something.

I'd like to ask you to

leave me a comment and

tell me about

the charity you would fund

if money were no object,

and there was

only the criteria

of what

calls your heart

to influence your choice.

Here's what I mean:

I would not only contribute,

but give

a full year of volunteered time,

Wolf Haven International

even if they wanted nothing

but to have me scoop wolf poop.

I'm fascinated by the creatures,

& that's an understatement.

After

I read your comments,

I'm going to choose

the response that

touches ME most,

and mail you the bottom painting

by Mick.

Nothing scientific about this giveaway,

just the beating

heart

to pick the winner.

Thank you, Mick,

for the beautiful paintings!!

Friday Reflections: Guest Artist Leanne Dougherty

2010-01-29T05:53:00.000-08:00

My name is Leanne and I started my Etsy shop, Folk.etsy.com, in July of 2009; this is where I sell one-of-a-kind sewn clothing and accessories, including a lot of purses and cloth cuff bracelets. I've embraced creativity since I was a small child, though drawing and painting were my main modes until about 7 years ago. In the meantime I've picked up a couple more creative endeavors, include spinning, knitting, and bellydancing, in addition to sewing and design. I am also getting into jewelry-making, slowly but surely, and have plans to hopefully start a zine in the near future!

To me, creativity means life and living. As I said before, I've always embraced creativity. In fact, I believe that ALL humans are intrinsically creative, that it's something we're born with rather than something we acquire. Some may have a greater inclination for it, but it's always there, in one form or another. It can either be nourished and develop into something wonderful, or it can be ignored or even, quite sadly, it can be discouraged--not just by others, but the self as well.

Creativity isn't just something that shows up in "arts and crafts," but a necessity that has kept people alive and flourishing since the beginning. Even though many things are factory-made and mass-produced today, there was a time not-too-long-ago when every manmade thing that had come into existence was handmade--think about it!

Usually, when I find myself unable to think creatively, I don't consciously seek inspiration, but instead take a break. For me, ideas often dry up because I am trying too hard or forcing it, and I lose focus. So the best thing is to just step back for a little bit, quit "trying" altogether, and tell myself that it's okay to not create anything for a little bit. It's usually in those times that inspiration strikes from seemingly nowhere. (And often that's the best kind!)

When you desire inspiration, it's important to be open to all possibilities. Inspiration doesn't come from a few select sources, it just depends on how you process thoughts or things. Most agree that it can be found in nature, in art books, and in other pieces of art, but it can also be discovered in a pile of junk, the drape of a skirt, or on the bottom of a shoe.

So naturally, I am finding inspiration everywhere! But to be a little more specific, when it comes to the pieces in my shop, most of my inspiration comes from Victorian and steampunk fashion, with the occasional influence from circus couture, ethnic/world folk styles, and fairy/woodland style. I like things that are elegant and feminine, but at the same time playful, whimsical, and unique. I love color but also love texture, especially fabric that has been manipulated with pleats or ruffles.

When making a new cuff bracelet, for example, I usually begin with a pile of scrap fabric (because I have SOOOO much of it!) I mix it around and see which colors and textures look good, and which buttons or accents go with it, as well. Once I narrow it down, I decide on a design. Sometimes I use patterns old reliable patterns, or depending on how the materials interact with each other, I may come up with a new plan. Then it's just a matter of cutting and stitching!

I am also happy to do custom orders, as Toni* can attest to! I am glad to execute your ideas, or if you're not exactly sure what you want, but know you want something special, I am also glad to try out different designs and hope that you'll find something to your liking!

* * * * * * * * * * *

*And Toni attests!

On my previous blogs, I made mention many times of the exceeding dimensions of my own hands, things like 'the size of a small continent'. I've never been able to wear bracelets that weren't cuffs, and I only 'settled' for wearing cuffs because I could wear them, not because I actually preferred them at all! Bangles won't slide over my hand no matter how I crunch my fingers/bones together. Standard size clasp bracelets dig into my skin or break, and I've always thought extenders just looked tacky. It wasn't until I chanced on Leanne's FolkEtsy shop that the notion (oh! my! GAWD!) of a fabric bracelet as an option took over my blond brain. I measured my wrist and saw that the sizes Leanne offered would be too small, so I emailed her and asked if she took custom orders. She did! She does!! Below is a photo of the first bracelet I commissioned Leanne to make for me, a Big Boned Gal bracelet!!! Except it's feminine, vintage-feeling, HAND MADE, and I feel like I stepped out of a period movie when I wear it and not at all like a woman with beastie hands.

Below is what I have my eye on next. Since mine would have to be custom sized, I'm not AT ALL worried about telling you these are available in Leanne's shop as we speak for those of you with more demure sized hands!

P.S. I want you all to know this post is my way of thanking Leanne for finally bringing the world of bracelets to my life. I'm not 'receiving' anything in return, no freebies if you go visit and/or purchase from FolkEtsy. Some discoveries in life just can't be horded, and I'm thinking there have to be others like me out there who can't fit standard bracelets, and (MOST IMPORTANTLY) who will see Leanne's work and FALL IN LOVE!!!

THANK YOU, LEANNE!!!

Misery & the Creative Muse

2010-01-28T05:56:00.000-08:00

“Why Grumpy Can be Rather Good for You”
[by Guest Artist Samantha Brightwell]

Inspiration. It's mysterious, it's evanescent, it's transcendent. When we've got it, we feel great. Life is good and days are too short. But what happens when the inspiration thins, disappears or just seems to have flat out packed up and gone? Do you frantically search for it in places you last saw it, like a favourite lost pen? Or do you wait for the next wave of new ideas to come rolling in, bringing a hit of the blessed endorphins we all love so much? My guess is it depends on how patient you are. I’m not, at all. So here are my thoughts on inspiration and the dilemma of waiting for my Muse to drop in.

Roadblocks and doldrums

As an artist, I've hit roadblocks before that have interrupted my creative flow for weeks or even months. For me, it's a visit from Churchill's 'Black Dog' that usually does it. Though art can be the thing that gets me out of it again (and please know that I mean writing, as much as painting or crafting, when I use this term). But this time around it wasn't depression or stress that was interrupting my work, because this time around I was happy. I’d just met someone great and was cruising through the contentment of being admired and feeling attracted to someone. It was a beautiful meeting of minds. Only my intelligent writer’s mind seemed to have vanished, leaving me adrift without a care.

I did the only sensible thing I could do at the time: I surrendered to the thing and let it flow. But little nigglings started to creep in after a few weeks. I’m a subscriber to the view that as a writer you turn up at the page, regardless of the whimsy or the mood you’re floating through. There will always be a million other things going on in my life that attempt to distract me from my art (my work – I see the two terms as interchangeable … one and the same thing). But the urge to write is always there and can always be relied on. Or so I thought. Yet here I was, staring at the keyboard, with nothing coming out.

Look on the bright side!

I started to face the possibility that contentment could be antagonistic to my creative process. Years of writing forged from struggle and discontentment might have just conditioned me to working from that place. Is my writing often grumpy? I don’t know. Perhaps there is a certain amount of what I hope is humorous self-deprecation involved (it’s a Brit thing – think Hugh Laurie or Rowan Atkinson). Darker subjects often seem to hold more depth and mileage for me but I don’t think I’m the only one affected by this bug.

Recently I came across an interesting review in the Telegraph, about Lady Antonia Fraser’s newly published memoirs of her marriage to the great British playwright and poet, Harold Pinter. They were together for over 30 years, until his death in 2008, but many of the critics believe that his truly great works were those written before his relationship with Fraser began in 1975. Fraser herself attributes the changes in his writing and political views to a change from an unhappy, complicated personal life, to a happy, uncomplicated personal life.

Endorsing grumpiness, ‘down under’

There, I thought. This could be the proof that I need to show that there is a definite link between misery and the creative muse. But how can I write about this? The Positive Thinking Police will never allow it to pass into real circulation as an idea.

Don’t panic. I’m not about to start promoting grumpiness as a way to cultivate your creative flow. However, you might like to think about this first before you dismiss me as a total crank:

A psychology expert in Australia, who has been carrying out a study into emotions at the University of New South Wales, has found that being grumpy can be good for you. Apparently, being grumpy makes you think more clearly and miserable people are better at decision-making. In a series of tasks carried out by his subjects, he found that that those in a bad mood outperformed those who were jolly. How surprising is that? And this is where it gets particularly interesting for those of us who spend a lot of time writing: he found that sad people were better at stating their case through written argument and had a more successful communication style.

Embracing dissatisfaction

Is contentment antagonistic to my creative process? Well, does it really matter? I won’t always be this ridiculously happy. The sheen of new love will one day fade to the pleasant fulfilment of building an ordinary life together (please, I’m just being realistic). I won’t always feel satisfied with the way things are right now. And this is where I think the Positive Thinking Cult can do us a little more harm than good. Because it’s ok to want to strive for excellence in your art. In fact, I firmly believe it’s good to know your weaknesses and keep pushing yourself to achieve mastery. But if we’re always repeating the mantra of gratitude and appreciation for what we have, then aren’t we always saying that we accept things the way they are and we’re not really hungry for more?

What’s wrong with wanting more anyway? Because more is what brings us great changes and developments in human evolution. Wanting more is what drives social changes and makes the world a better place. And in order to want more we have to be a little bit dissatisfied with what we’ve got right now. I know I am. Aren’t you?

I’m signing off today with an open mind to the notion that maybe my Muse loves a little bit of misery. And I think that that’s ok. I also think that we’d all do well to embrace our grumpiness a bit more readily, because though there may be beasties within, there also may be diamonds.

* * * * * * * * * *

{For more thoughts on inspiration and the creative process, please visit my blog, Out of the Void}

I'm a writer, a conscious-living coach and a business advisor. I juggle all that with being a mum and letting my inner artist out to play. When the inspiration is flowing, I write about creativity and conscious living at Out of the Void . In February, I'm launching a business support programme for arty-types, creative souls and innerpreneurs, called How To Build A Really Good Business My goal is to help you create success. There are 50 million Cultural Creatives out there, and when we all step into our power, we just might change the world.

Wednesday Write-Off: No Anger, But A Dance

2010-01-27T06:05:00.000-08:00

Write-Off Prompt for Wednesday, February 3, 2010:

There have been

whisperings in my ear,

so far unintelligible except

[except]

Wednesday Write-Off

wants to morph, transform.

While I await further direction,

I leave you no writing prompt

beyond this:

WRITE ANYWAY

* * * * * * * * * * *

Last Week's Prompt:

Write a [minimum] 10-line poem

about the last time

somebody

something

made you angry.

Rhyming not required.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The thing of it is,

I haven't been ANGRY

in a very long time.

Annoyed, yes.

Irritated, irked,

often frustrated.

But "angry" - not.

& I decided anger

was not a place I wanted

to revisit

during a really good week.

I have no anger poem.

Instead,

I offer a collage entitled

A Visual Prayer

the poem it

prompted

last night.

I have been wanting

you and me

dancing "us" again,

braving the storm-strewn path

we so recently cut

down our center.

I have been wanting

you and me

twirling around the

rubble of distance,

turning atop the

compost of raw reveal,

two-stepping amid

the craters & thrown limbs of

calling this done.

I have been wanting

you and me

to feel our feet --

agile,

able --

tangoing among the debris

of our division,

discovering in the process

the steps to a new dance,

more fluid with

the pulse of difficulty - faced,

more fluent accompanied by

lessons taken & learned,

a free solo of change,

unencumbered,

as we wind our way

forward,

to "us",

anew,

still dancing.

1/26/10

l. antonia brown

isle of sky words

[for Double BB]

Tuesday Technique'N: with Guest Artist Pam Tucker

2010-01-26T05:58:00.000-08:00

Pam Tucker
is a self-taught mixed media artist.

She enjoys creating all types of art;

collage, abstract painting, textile art, and

digital art are among her favorites right now.

You can visit her blog at:

http://pamtsartloft.blogspot.com/

to see her work.

CitraSolv Technique
for
Beautiful Backgrounds:

[text & photos by Pam Tucker]

Here are the supplies you'll need:

• National Geographic magazine

(Note: It has to be an issue printed within the last ten years.

I'm told the technique won't work on issues older than that.)

• CitraSolv Concentrate (make sure it's the concentrate and not the spray)

• lots of newspaper or other absorbent material

• paper towels

• container and brush (I used a chip brush)

• apron (it gets messy)

Also, have a good-sized place prepared to

lay your finished pages to dry.

I cleared a space in my loft, laying down a sheet of plastic

and then covering that with newspapers.

Before I start actually soaking the pages,

I'll go through the magazine and

tear out pages that have lots of text.

What you are looking for are pages with vivid color.

I'll leave in some text pages for "neutral" backgrounds.

There is an advantage to this as you'll see in an example below.

With your newspapers layered onto your working surface

(I used an old padded card table),

open your magazine and just start "painting" the pages

with the CitraSolv.

You can be very liberal with your application.

I literally splash it on the pages,

give it a good couple of swipes with the brush,

and move on to the next page.

Coat the front and back of all the pages you wish to use.

This photo shows how I've coated

one of the two-page spreads:

Work your way through the magazine,

coating the pages with the CitraSolv.

You may have to replenish your container

a couple of times since the magazine has quite a few pages.

Just make sure each page you want to use has

a good coating front and back.

You'll start to see black ink spill from the pages.

This is why the newspaper is a must.

I always get some ink on my hands when I do this.

When you are finished coating your pages,

close the magazine and pat down the cover with your palms.

You'll see a lot of black ink ooze from the sides.

Blot all of that up with some paper towels.

Here's what my magazine looked like

after I blotted the ink:

Now, wait for the magic to happen!

The time will vary, depending on how humid it is where you are.

I found that usually 25 minutes is a good amount of time.

It's okay to peek after about 15 minutes or so,

just to see how it's progressing.

You don't want your pages to stick together,

so make sure they're still wet when you go to remove them.

Start to remove your pages.

Since the magazine has been soaked,

the pages will usually just lift right out.

If you need to, just give a little tug and they'll come free.

When you lift your pages out,

try to grab them by the corners.

The wet ink will show where your
fingers have been if you aren't careful.

Also, depending on how much of
the CitraSolv you put onto your page,

it will still be drippy when you remove it.

Be careful not to let it drip onto your floor.

I just hold a paper towel under the page as
I carry it to the "drying station".

Take your pages to the place you prepared for them to dry.

Lay them out flat, not touching each other.

Drying time will depend, again,
on the humidity level where you are.

It was really cold here yesterday when
I made these and it took a little longer to dry.

I left them to sit for a couple of hours while I ran errands.

When I came back they were dry.

The first batch I made only took about 20 minutes to dry;

it was much warmer that day.

Here are a few of my favorite pages from this batch.

You will also discover some really cool surprises with this technique!

In this example, I had left the text side of the spread alone.

I didn't put any CitraSolv on it at all since

there wasn't any color there to blend.

But I liked the opposing image of the man and
thought the colors around him would
make a pretty background.

Evidently I didn't coat this page very well and

the image didn't really bleed out.
But look what happened:

The image had transferred itself onto the text page!

And, totally by chance, there happened to be an ink blot

exactly on the man's eye.

I didn't plan that;
I didn't even know it was happening.

So the transferred image had a hole
where the man's left eye would be.

I was thrilled with this little discovery!

I will definitely be using this guy in my art
(embellished, of course).

That's the beauty of this technique.

If two people paint the same page from a pair

of the same magazines, they will turn out different.

It's all chance, depending on how much

CitraSolv you coat your page with,

how much pressure you put on the cover

when you close the magazine to let it cure, etc.

If I did this again, using another copy of

this same magazine, I would get different results!

I hope you try this technique.
I'm sure you'll be amazed and delighted with your results!

CitraSolv has a website where they post
the different artists' results using their product.

Here's the link to my page there.

Check out all of the tips and techniques

they've put together for using CitraSolv in their art.

I am not affiliated with them in any way; just a happy customer!

* * * * * * * * * *

THANK YOU SO MUCH, PAM!

* * * * * * * * * *

If you have a technique you'd like to share on
Tuesday Technique'N,
please contact me at antoniafufu@yahoo.com

There Is No Such Thing as A Burned-Out Prompt

2010-01-25T07:03:00.000-08:00

' ... because every time you do a project

you are

a different person

with

different things to talk about.

A new voice will

always take over

and

take the project into

a completely

new

direction.

So never feel ...

oh I did that assignment already.

Approach it from a

different perspective

or different voice.

Always challenge yourself.

You could do

the same assignment

every day

and

always come up

with something new!'

Juliana Coles

[quote used by permission]

Personal Mythology through Extreme Journalism

http://www.artandsoulretre/ at.com Hampton VA May 20-21

http://www.destinyvoyages/. com

http://www.meandpete/. com

http://www.julianacoles/. etsy.com

www.flickr.com/ photos/julianaco les

http://www.captainsblog/. typepad.com

* * * * * * * * * *
Collages from my weekend for my on-line class

Let's Energize, Not Homogenize

2010-01-24T07:45:00.000-08:00

Thinking about
blog post content.

Thinking about
how we all
stimulate & support each other.

Thinking about
how we

meet & greet each other
in comments.

I love comments,

leaving them for others,

receiving them.

Still ...

... isn't it true that

sometimes

you might read

a little something here,

a little something there,

& find yourself

(your SELF)

rising up with a

different point of view?

Yea, I know.

What I want to say,

here,

is
I believe it's ok

DISAGREE

via comments.

I think it's good to say,

"Hey, I like what you said here,

and here,

but when I read this part right here,

I thought maybe I'd offer another slant,

a second take,

another angle,

because that's

where my experience has led,

that's what my life lessons have taught me."

Now:

if I feel super CHARGED

in any way about someone's post

then I know that's the time to

shut my comment yap.

Go away, chill out,

THINK IT THROUGH,

and maybe,

only maybe,

return, and respond.

RESPOND,

mind you.

Respectfully,
tactfully,
diplomatically,

even gently,
the way
I'd want someone to
disagree with me.

NOT 'retort'.

NOT 'correct'.
NOT 'proselytize'.
NOT 'ordain'.
NOT 'command'.

NOT 'attack'.
NOT 'judge.'

RESPOND.

Because

I think

there is just as much

I can learn

(maybe more?)

from someone else's courage

to point my brain in a new direction

as there is

(and there is)

from the generous

doses of encouragement

& delight &

community & ideas

we mainly offer
one another.

Friday Reflections - Part 2: '... What We Really Need to Learn'

2010-01-22T15:08:00.000-08:00

I'm a brand new reader of

Yoga+Joyful Living

I don't practice & have never practiced yoga.

But the Winter 2009/2010 issue

landed a must-have-talon

in my chest,

so hence came home with me.

Features like

"Heart of India'

'11 Insomnia Solutions'

'The Heart of Pilgramage'

'Your Guide to Spirital Activism'

and the cover art ...

well ...

irresistible,

particularly after

finally viewing,

last weekend,

a Yoga For Beginners

DVD I've had for months.

Then I read the interview in Yoga Threads

with Angela Farmer

also new to me,

and

came across this quote:

'My biggest teacher is my teaching.

As teachers, we teach what we

really need to learn.'

THAT thought,

my friends,

was also brand spanking new to me.

Here I am,

with a new blog,

and the intent of using it as a teaching tool,

a forum for learning

AND

inspiration

AND

encouragement.

What, my goodness,

do I need to learn?

I'm not sure about that,

quite frankly,

but

I can tell you what I AM learning.

I am learning

that I was right:

I do have a voice,

and something to say.

I am learning,

via comments, email & other feedback,

where the interest pulse resides,

which topics are reaching readers,

where the concerns & fears exist.

I am learning

that asking doesn't mean receiving,

but asking is a tiny baby step

toward my goal,

and each step validates my path,

solidifies my purpose,

reenergizes my faith in my ability to do this.

And asking,

many many many times,

does mean receiving.

I am learning

that all the years of writing

'to a void'

'in a vacuum'

'alone to myself'

amount to a vast reservoir of confidence anyway.

Ditto blogging,

ditto taking workshops & classes,

ditto participating in swaps &

round robins & on-line groups,

ditto submitting my art,

although none of it was accepted,

ditto the uncountable hours

spent at my studio desk

trying the techniques I read about,

or practicing the ones I learned from others.

I am learning

[reminded]

THAT NOT ONE THING IS WASTED.

I am learning

what

I have to teach,

and

how

teach

it.

Friday Reflections: A Brand New Year

2010-01-22T07:20:00.000-08:00

This just in from My Lovely Mother:

No matter how badly

last year treated you,

just walk tall

with your head held high.

This is a brand new year, Baby!

hahahahahahaha

love it.

[& sorry, but I can't give image credit,

except to say I didn't take this photo!]